Home for Christmas
by Jilsen
Summary: Vanessa and Joe have a remote get-away planned for December just a few weeks before Christmas. However, evil lurks around the corner. Will it be a Merry Christmas or not for Van and Joe? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hardy Boys and am not making any money from this story. I do, however, own all of the original characters presented within this story._

 _This story can be read as a stand-alone. In reality, it follows the universe created in "Meet Me at Midnight" and Joe's story in "Duty and Honor." You do not have to read those stories in order to understand this one. Joe met Vanessa in "Meet Me at Midnight" and they became boyfriend/girlfriend. This story expands upon their relationship and where it's headed._

 _Warning: My stories tend to be more adult oriented, a bit more dark and gritty. There will be some violence (mild, in my opinion, but tastes differ) and references to violence._

 _Wendylouwho10 was kind enough to beta the first 19 chapters. Thanks, Wendy! I held back the final chapters so as to surprise her. ;)_

* * *

Chapter One

Light rain pelted the windshield and Vanessa flipped on the windshield wipers. She was headed to her Aunt Alice's cabin. Aunt Alice, aged seventy-three, rented it out nowadays. Usually, it was booked solid this time of year, mid December, but a rare cancellation had given Vanessa the opportunity to strike. She'd ask to use the cabin for the week and Aunt Alice had agreed. She'd even said Vanessa and boyfriend, Joe, could stay there for free.

Vanessa had been ecstatic. She'd always loved the cabin in the mountains in upper state New York. The cabin had been a big part of her childhood. She'd spent many summers there fishing, swimming, hiking, and camping.

Every year, Aunt Alice and Uncle Nate (now passed away) had hosted a huge, bountiful Fourth of July party at the cabin. Bender family members had come from far and wide to enjoy the yearly event. People would set up tents on the spacious property and camp out. Less hardy souls rented rooms in town. Aunt Alice provided the food on the Fourth – traditional American fare – while Uncle Nate organized games and contests. There were foot races, swimming contests, archery competitions, and lots of hide and seek for the little ones.

Aww, what glorious days. Vanessa exhaled a heartfelt sigh. She missed those fun-filled summers. Three weeks at the cabin in the summer was something she had looked forward to every year. School couldn't end soon enough. It was pure torture getting through June. The wait for July first, the day to head for the cabin, was practically unbearable.

Vanessa would count the weeks, the days, and finally the hours. When the time to leave finally arrived, Vanessa was a bundle of anxious energy.

She laughed at herself. Funny how some places had such a strong hold on a person.

As much as Vanessa relished summers at the cabin, she loved Christmas even more. Unfortunately, then the visit was short. Relatives came for only a few days and no one camped on the property. Way too cold in December for that. Everyone got hotel rooms in town which, of course, meant people didn't stay as long.

Still, it was worth it to see the cabin all done up for Christmas. Uncle Nate had lights around every window. White lights were twirled around the porch railing and on the front door hung the biggest, most fragrant wreath. Uncle Nate made it from pine boughs found right on his property. He even strung lights into the wreath.

That wreath was a work of art. A work of love, Uncle Nate would say when people commented on the wreath's beauty.

Through the front window, one could glimpse a majestic, pine tree. It was also found on the property and felled by Uncle Nate. Aunt Alice would deck the tree with every Christmas ornament she owned, and she owned plenty.

Vanessa chuckled. It must have taken Aunt Alice weeks to decorate the tree and cabin and it was all worth it.

Vanessa was always anxious to get inside. Inside, the aroma of roasting ham, pumpkin pie, and other delectable foodstuffs awaited. Vanessa smiled at the memory. Such lovely, wonderful memories. They filled her with happiness.

This year she would build new memories with Joe. They'd been dating for over seven months and things were going great. They both lived and worked in Illinois. She worked for an insurance company. He co-owned a detective agency with his brother, Frank, and Frank's girlfriend Nancy.

Vanessa and Joe had hit it off the minute they'd met. She'd felt the attraction between them that first day. The way he'd looked at her with those sky blue eyes had made her heart melt. He was the real deal; ruggedly handsome and solidly built. His wavy, blond hair was kept short, military style.

Initially, Vanessa had been leery of Joe's line of work. His detective job was dangerous. She'd learned that right-away, but she also learned that Joe knew how to handle himself. He was ex-Army, a military police sergeant and had completed two tours in Afghanistan. Over there, he'd faced danger almost every day. Some of the things he'd seen she couldn't even begin to imagine and didn't want to. But he knew how to take care of himself and others. The Army had taught him the skills and given him the necessary training.

When Joe and Vanessa met, he was as world-weary as she was. A failed marriage had forced her to move to Illinois where she took refuge, and a job, at her aunt's insurance company. Looking back, Vanessa thanked the heavens for that move. Without it she would never have met Joe.

His past was not care-free either. He'd lost a girlfriend to a car bomb when he was nineteen. Although that was ten years ago, Vanessa wasn't sure Joe's wounds were completely healed. Grief and vengeance had driven him to join the Army where he could vent some of that anger on the bad guys of the world. From what he'd told her, he'd vented a lot of anger in Afghanistan.

Although he'd been an MP, he'd spent considerable time in combat. It was the nature of the war. No one, and nothing, could be trusted. She shuddered at the very thought of entering buildings not knowing if friendlies or enemies lurked inside. Not to mention IEDs (improvised explosive devices). She admired Joe's strength and commitment though. He'd served his country with pride and honor. He'd done what he could to make this world a safer place. In her book, he was a hero.

Big, fat snowflakes hit the windshield and brought her attention back to the road. She leaned forward and peered at the sky. Dark, ominous clouds scudded about the tree tops. A storm was on the way. She needed to hurry.

She pulled into the parking lot of the only real estate agency in Pine Crest. With less than 2,000 citizens, one agency was all Pine Crest needed.

Vanessa hurried into the office, the hood of her parka over her head. The snowflakes were coming down harder now. They were beautiful, but menacing. Roads would start to ice. She still had to hit the grocery store and get to the cabin. Of course, there was Joe. Would the roads remain passable? Would he be able to make it to the cabin?

She would be absolutely crushed if he didn't make it.

She would call him after she bought groceries. Here in town she could get cell service. On the mountain it was iffy at best.

Real Estate Agent Lilly May looked up at the tall, statuesque blonde who entered her office. Lilly saw pale blue eyes, with a hint of worry in them.

Lilly May rose from behind her desk. "Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes." Vanessa smiled at Lilly.

Lilly May was forty-five, well-groomed and the epitome of good manners. She extended a hand to the young woman.

Vanessa took the proffered hand and shook it gently. "I'm Vanessa Bender. My aunt owns a cabin on Bear Mountain."

"Oh yes. I'm been expecting you Miss Bender. Alice called me last week. You're to have the cabin for one week, rent-free." Lilly grinned. "I have all the paperwork ready. You just have to sign agreeing that you are staying there for one week and will be responsible for any damages."

Lilly looked Vanessa over. "I doubt there'll be any damages. Just a formality really. Please, have a seat." Lilly gestured at two comfortable seats in front of her desk.

Vanessa took a seat and unzipped her parka while Lilly dug in a filing cabinet.

"Looks like a storm's on the way," Vanessa said.

Lilly noted the concern in the young woman's voice. "It does. Last night's weather forecast said we could get several inches of snow by midnight. Are you going straight up the mountain to the cabin?"

"Groceries first and then the cabin."

"Don't delay too long," Lilly warned. "The roads on Bear Mountain can get pretty icy and with those steep drop offs …"

"Yes, I know all about them." Vanessa knew well the dangers of Bear Mountain. Icy roads and sheer cliffs. She definitely had to call Joe and warn him.

"Here you go." Lilly pushed several papers across the desk. "Just sign here and here." She pointed with a blue ink pen and then handed it to Vanessa.

A red X marked each spot where Vanessa's signature was required. She signed and Lilly held up a set of keys.

"This one opens the front door. This one the back. The other is for the garage. The garage is filled to the rafters with old junk according to Alice. No one's to use the garage without her consent." Lilly looked at Vanessa expectantly.

"I don't plan on using the garage." It had never crossed Vanessa's mind to peek into the garage. Right now, all she wanted were the keys. Time was of the essence and she felt it slipping away second by tedious second.

Lilly handed over the keys. Vanessa slipped them into her purse and rose to leave.

Lilly held out a business card. "My card. If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to call. My office number, and home number, are on the card."

"Thank you so much. It's been a pleasure." Vanessa turned and fled the office.

She darted through thick snowflakes and into the relative comfort of her rental car. She prayed the snow would ease off until Joe arrived. Intuition told her she would need more than prayers.

* * *

 _I plan on posting a chapter every other day in November. In December I might post every day. I think I'll have to. The goal is to finish posting this story before Christmas. Yes, this story is complete. I started it last year in October and have worked on it throughout this year. And for those wondering about "Murder by the Sea," yes, I am completing that story and will start posting the final chapters in March/April 2017._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

They were brothers. Around thirty years old and so similar in speech and mannerisms that some people thought they were twins. Not identical twins … fraternal twins. One brother had blond hair, the other sandy brown. They kept their hair short. Cowboy hats adored their heads.

They were clean shaven and dressed in clean clothes. Nice jeans, nice work boots, and sheepskin coats. They looked decent and respectable. It was a small deception that had fooled many people, many times.

Both brothers possessed piercing blue eyes. Both were six foot-one, or so, and lean with wiry muscles. Both were dangerous. More than dangerous. Deadly would be more accurate. A string of bodies lay in their wake.

Home robberies were their crime of choice. Home robberies were easy and did not require a great deal of prep. One had only to find a home. Most homes offered items of immediate value for sale and profit. TVs, computers, credit cards, and cash. The brothers had no problem turning stolen goods into cold, hard cash.

A wide network of people existed who would pay for such items. Tangible items like TVs and electronics were snapped up and sold on the black market. The brothers considered themselves the middlemen. They procured items for greedy sellers and the brothers were paid well for their efforts.

Those involved in credit card theft welcomed the brothers' contributions. Here again, the brothers provided the needed items. The criminals generally used stolen credit cards for their own purchases and then quickly discarded the cards.

The brothers did not care how the stolen goods were used. Their only concern was obtaining the stolen goods and receiving payment. So far, there had never been a problem with payment.

The brothers kept any cash they found. They considered it disposable income. Here today, gone tomorrow. Stolen cash had another very important value. Credit cards generated receipts and a paper trail. Cash did not. The brothers used cash for food and gas, and thus left no trail.

The blond brother, Sean, lifted the gas nozzle and tucked it into the side of the truck. He brushed snowflakes off the sleeve of his sheepskin coat and pushed back the brim of his cowboy hat. He studied the sky a moment then said, "Brother, I believe a storm is on the way."

The sandy brown haired brother, Ethan, surveyed the snowflakes falling heavy around them. "I feel you are correct in your assessment. I do not think it wise to continue our journey tonight."

"The roads will be fraught with dangers," Sean said.

"We should find shelter." Ethan gazed from beneath his hat at the grocery store across the street. His brother's eyes found the grocery store, too.

"Perhaps, we should also find sustenance," Ethan said.

Sean nodded. "I think that an excellent idea. One never knows what one might find in a grocery store."

"That is indeed true." Something resembling a grin appeared on Ethan's face.

# # # #

Vanessa pushed the cart down the first aisle of the grocery store. Christmas music drifted from the PA system and lifted her spirits. She would make a sumptuous meal, something easy but delicious. She needed cubed steak, potatoes, onions, carrots, canned tomatoes, and green beans. The meal would last her and Joe two days. Well, maybe not. Not the way Joe ate. She grinned at the thought.

Household staples soon filled the cart. Coffee, sugar, salt and pepper, and many other necessities. Vanessa never noticed the two brothers, she was too intent on shopping, on stocking up on food. If a big storm hit, she and Joe could be trapped in the cabin for a few days.

The brothers kept her in sight. "Is she alone?" Sean asked as Vanessa turned a corner.

"Hard to say," Ethan replied. "I shall wait by the checkout while you follow our prey. With any luck, she may share some information with the checkout lady."

Sean gave a nod and continued down the aisle. He had no cart and no intention of buying anything.

Ethan found a display of Christmas cards near the checkout register and perused them. He picked out a card and read the inscription inside: ' _Have a happy holiday_.'

Rather lame, he thought and returned the card to the stand. He felt the checkout lady's eyes on him and turned in her direction.

"Can I help you, sir?" Her eyes were wide and she looked eager to please. Her name was Amy. It said so on her nametag. Her inquiry was met with a cold, hard stare.

Ethan never answered Amy. He merely stared at her and watched as her smile faded and the twinkle in her eyes changed to fear. She had read him correctly. She should be afraid, he thought and the thought brought a smile to his face.

Ethan's smile caused Amy's fear to waver and she tried to smile again, but couldn't. Some primitive instinct told her something was 'off' about this customer. Don't ask her what because she couldn't say. It was just something she felt.

Vanessa approached the checkout and Amy's attention was diverted. She didn't want to look at the creepy guy anymore. At first, she'd thought him kind of handsome. A tall stud of a cowboy. They didn't get many of those around here in the wilds of upstate New York.

Now though, she did not think of his looks. Now, all she thought of were his cold, dead eyes. Hopefully, he'd leave the store and not buy anything. Amy did not want to interact with him.

Amy looked up at Vanessa and gave her a warm smile. "Find everything you need?"

Vanessa laughed. Her cart was quite full. "I hope so." She hitched a thumb at the snow swirling beyond the windows. "I hear a storm is on the way. If it hits hard I won't be able to make it back into town again."

"Looks like you'll be pretty well stocked." Amy passed several cans of soup over the scanner. "I haven't seen you around. You here visiting relatives?"

Vanessa grinned. Pine Crest was a small town. Any unfamiliar face caused eyebrows to raise and questions to be asked.

"Actually," Vanessa said, "I used to come here when I was younger. My aunt owns a cabin on Bear Mountain. She rents it out now. I'll be staying there for a few days."

"Bear Mountain?" Amy's eyes widened. "Those roads ice up fast in weather like this. You have chains for your tires?"

"Um, no."

"Then you better get up that mountain quick before the snow gets any worse."

"I plan on it." Vanessa stole a glance at the window again. The snow was coming down harder. A thin blanket of white had started to form on sidewalks and the parking lot.

Amy put the last grocery bag in Vanessa's cart then turned and ripped the receipt from the cash register. She handed it to Vanessa. "Here you go. Have a wonderful stay in Pine Crest. If you need anything, we're open seven days a week from eight a.m. to nine p.m."

Vanessa took the receipt. "Thanks, that's good to know."

Vanessa pushed her loaded cart out of the store.

Amy looked at the Christmas card stand. The creepy cowboy was gone. Hopefully, he was just passing through town. But with the way it was snowing, he might be forced to stay. Amy shuddered at the thought.

# # # #

Vanessa got the groceries into the car and then ducked into the driver's seat and pulled out her cell phone. Time to call Joe.

Sean sat at the wheel of their truck. It was a fairly new truck. Nice and long with a camper top. All the brothers' possessions, and some items that were not their possessions, were stowed in the bed of the truck. The truck was their means of transportation and, on occasion, a place to sleep.

Neither brother relished the idea of sleeping in the truck, but when circumstances demanded, they had done it. In the summer, sleeping in the bed of the truck could be somewhat enjoyable. Pleasant even. Sitting on the tailgate watching the stars align in the night sky wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. However, a cold, snowy night, such as appeared to be on the horizon, was no time to sleep in the truck.

The brothers rarely used hotels. Most had cameras and of course, there was the paperwork. One had to register, give a name, provide an address. All things the brothers did not wish to provide. That dreaded paper trail. It led law enforcement straight to their quarry. The brothers avoided hotels at all costs. Sleeping in the homes of their victims was their preferred course of action.

Sean had one hand resting atop the steering wheel. The fingers of the other hand stroked his chin. He had shaved that morning in the home of their latest victim, yet he felt the stubble already starting. He would like to shave tonight and enjoy a long, hot shower.

"She is pleasing to look at," Sean said.

"Agreed," said Ethan.

"And you are sure she is alone? No husband? No boyfriend?" Sean turned his icy blue eyes toward his brother.

Ethan lifted his cowboy hat, ran a hand through his hair, and resettled the hat on his head. "She made no mention of such in the store. Her aunt owns a cabin on the mountain and she is staying there for a few days."

"Alone?" Sean pondered the idea.

Ethan peered at his brother's profile. "Might I ask, does it matter? We have never encountered a situation we could not handle."

"You speak the truth, brother. Surely, you do. I am merely curious as to why a lovely young lady would choose to spend a few days alone in a mountain cabin."

"It is an interesting question," Ethan said with a nod. "Perhaps, we can entice the young lady to clarify her reasons once we make her acquaintance."

"Yes, I think we can." Sean smiled at his brother. "I would like very much to hear her reasons, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed I would, brother. Indeed I would."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Joe checked the clock on the dashboard. He was making good time. He should reach Pine Crest in two hours.

He'd spent the past two days in Bayport, New York visiting his parents. His father still ran a detective agency there. Joe and his brother, Frank, had worked for their father during their teen years. Both had eventually joined the Army and had become military police. The training they had received was invaluable and when they left the military they were determined to open their own detective agency. River Heights, Illinois was chosen as the place for the agency based solely on the fact Frank's girlfriend, Nancy Drew, lived there.

All things considered, Joe was happy with the decision. He'd met Vanessa Bender in River Heights. The insurance company Vanessa worked for was right next door to Joe and Frank's detective agency. Joe and Vanessa saw each other every day. That was something Joe liked a lot.

Vanessa should be at the cabin by now, he thought. He wished they were arriving at the same time, but Vanessa had insisted she wanted a little time alone at the cabin. She wanted to get things settled and ready before he showed up. He could understand that. She'd told him how important the cabin was to her. The last time she'd been there was ten years ago. Practically a lifetime. Would it still hold the same charm? Joe hoped it would.

He'd spent the last two days answering his mother's questions. She wanted to know everything about Vanessa. Not surprising, Joe had not had a girlfriend since the death of his nineteen-year-old sweetheart, Iola. Oh, he'd dated off and on, but no one had become permanent. No one had stirred his heart. Not until Vanessa.

She had awakened long dormant emotions in him. For the first time in years, he'd felt his heart beat again, a heart he didn't think he had. The day Iola died, his heart died, too. In that space where his heart should have been, was a black void. He'd spent years simply existing, drifting aimlessly from one day to the next; from one year to the next. And then Vanessa walked into his life.

Literally, walked into his office and his world changed. He still remembered how her long, ash-blonde hair had glimmered in the afternoon sunlight. How her smile had rocked his world. She had captured his heart without even trying.

His brother, Frank, joked that Joe was like the Grinch who stole Christmas, his heart had grown three sizes the day he met Vanessa.

If someone were to ask Joe, he would say he had finally found his heart again.

Yes, Joe was definitely looking forward to seeing Vanessa. A week at the cabin was perfect. They would relax and enjoy one another's company. They would hike the woods and have snowball fights. At night, they'd cuddle in front of the fireplace with hot chocolate. Life would be wonderful and cozy. They would get to know each other even better than they already did.

And then he would take her to his parents' home and introduce her. Show her off properly. His mother would like her, he was positive of that.

His cell phone rang and jerked him from his thoughts.

He tapped the Bluetooth around his neck, "Hey, babe."

"Joe, it's snowing here."

Vanessa sounded a little panicked and he chuckled. "Snowing here, too," he said.

She explained about the possibility of ice. About the steep, twisty road up the mountain.

"I have snow chains. You think I'll need them?" he asked.

She hemmed and hawed. "Not sure, hon. Maybe." Then she recounted the directions to the cabin. "Follow the road all the way to the end. The road dead ends at Aunt Alice's cabin."

He nodded as he listened. "Got it, babe."

"There's no cell phone service on the mountain, but the cabin has a landline." She gave him the number. "Call me just before you start up the mountain. That way I'll know when to expect you."

"Got it. I'll call when I'm at the bottom of the mountain," he promised.

She promised dinner would be ready when he arrived. "I bought everything at the only grocery store in town. I just have to get to the cabin and get it in the oven."

"You're making me hungry. How long is the drive up the mountain?"

"In weather like this? At least thirty minutes, maybe a little more."

Joe did some quick math in his head. "It should take me about two and a half hours to get there then."

Vanessa laughed. "You're so precise."

Joe felt the joy in her voice. "I miss you, Van."

"I miss you, too, hon. Can't wait till you're here."

"Same here, babe. See you soon."

Joe turned his attention back to the road and the weather. The weather had taken a nasty turn. When he'd set out that afternoon there had been drizzle. The drizzle had turned to sleety rain, and now … now it was snowing. Fat, thick flakes plastered the windshield.

He switched the wipers to fast and reduced his speed. Experience had taught him caution was the better part of valor.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Vanessa put the rental car in a lower gear and headed up the mountain. It would be eight slow miles from the bottom of the mountain to the top. Aunt Alice's cabin was at the top, at the end of the road.

The snow was coming down fast and condensation fogged the car's windows. Frozen snowflakes stuck to the side-view mirrors. The only place Vanessa had a clear view of her surroundings was through the windshield and that was due to the wipers furious back and forth motion. With her view hindered, Vanessa did not see the black truck following discreetly behind her.

The driver, Sean, kept well back, well out of Vanessa's sight.

Ethan studied the display on his iPhone and cocked his head. "Bless Google Earth, brother. The map indicates there are only three cabins on this road."

Something akin to a smile curled the corners of Sean's mouth. "Ahh, our search will not take long then."

"No, it shall not," Ethan agreed.

# # # #

At mile marker two, Vanessa passed the first cabin on the road. She gazed down the quarter mile long driveway and spotted a homey cabin nestled between stately pines and bare limbed maples. Vanessa stared lovingly at the cabin. She could just make out lights in the windows. Her cousin, Daphne, lived there. The only family member who still lived in Pine Crest.

Daphne cleaned Aunt Alice's cabin in between guests. Daphne's husband, Ron, took care of the maintenance. An image of Ron popped into Vanessa's head and she almost laughed out loud. Ron fancied himself something of a cowboy. He wouldn't be caught dead without one of his trademark Stetson hats. Vanessa had to admit he looked good in those hats. Might be why Daphne had fallen for him.

Daphne had married well. Ron was a true gem, that rare breed of gentleman and stud. The couple had the two cutest little girls to boot. Vanessa could hardly wait to see all of them … and this time, she had a gem of her own … Joe Hardy.

Three years ago, Daphne and Ron had flown to New York to see Vanessa and her 'then' husband Brice. That marriage had been a mistake. Vanessa had jumped into it with the innocence of youth. She hadn't stayed innocent for long. Brice may have been a police officer, but he was no gentleman, something Vanessa found out the hard way. She'd endured abuse at his hands.

Vanessa's eyes welled and she shook her head to clear away the memories. They were ugly and sordid and she didn't want them rattling around in her head. Not now. This was supposed to be a time of happiness and joy and it was darn well going to be. Joe would be here in less than three hours. She had a lot to do to get ready.

She focused on the road as it curved to the right. These last few turns were sharp. She had to pay close attention if she didn't want to slide off the road.

# # # #

Sean maneuvered the black truck over the wet pavement. He had the windshield wipers going, sweeping away the snowflakes. Ethan watched for cabins. He rubbed his window with the elbow of his jacket and peered through the glass.

Sean slowed when they reached the first cabin. Ethan cleared the condensation from the window again and craned his neck. He gazed down the long, snow covered driveway and saw no tire tracks.

He shook his head. "Not this one, brother."

Sean put the truck into a lower gear and continued on. The road gradually climbed and trees nudged the edges. Fewer snowflakes fell, the trees so thick now.

The brothers came to a second cabin. Again, Ethan cleared his window, took a long look, and shook his head. "Not this one either."

"Well, then it is to be the third and last cabin," Sean said.

And so it was.

# # # #

Vanessa got to the cabin and pulled the car close to the covered porch. Three cars could easily park in front of the porch. Snow covered the porch railing. She took a moment to drink it in, the beauty and serenity of the place. The snow had stopped, a momentary lull, so she had a perfect view. The cabin sat amid majestic pine trees. Nothing had changed in all the intervening years.

The garage was off to the left. The driveway between the cabin and garage was large and flat. Large enough to accommodate seven vehicles. That had come in handy at family gatherings.

Vanessa was suddenly anxious to get inside. She plucked the key to the front door from her purse, grabbed several grocery bags, and climbed out of the car. Brrrr, it was cold outside. She dashed up the porch steps.

A homemade pine wreath adorned the door. Cousin Daphne had probably made it. Vanessa inhaled the woodsy scent. It wasn't an Uncle Nate creation, but it was a close second. Vanessa fumbled the key into the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside. Warmth and a soft glow welcomed her. Daphne had left a table lamp on in the living room.

The living room had a big, soft couch with lots of colorful pillows and blankets. A good place to curl up with a loved one and a cup of hot chocolate. A stack of wood and newspapers sat on the hearth. Logs were arranged inside the fireplace. All that was needed was some paper and a match. She and Joe could snuggle up tonight after dinner.

A peaceful feeling stole over Vanessa as she carried the grocery bags to the kitchen. The room was large, a combination kitchen and dining room. Vanessa set the bags on the big oak table and thought of the many meals she had enjoyed at this table … in this room. Tonight, she and Joe would enjoy a meal here, just the two of them.

But first, she had to finish unloading the car.

Forty-five minutes later, Vanessa had dinner in the oven and dishes in the sink. The stew needed to cook for another hour and a half. Joe should be here by then. Vanessa peeked out the window over the kitchen sink. Snow was falling again, lightly. It was four-fifteen and the sun was setting. It would be dark when Joe arrived.

Vanessa finished the dishes and wandered into the living room. The table lamp filled the room with a golden glow. Daphne had arranged a few Christmas items here and there. The woman should be an interior decorator. She had a flair for small touches that made a huge impact. Pretty red candles on end tables, a basket of pine cones on the hearth, and a bowl of candied mints – just begging to be sampled – on the coffee table. Pine boughs and mini-lights were strung along the fireplace mantel. Vanessa bent down and plugged them in. Instant Christmas cheer.

An envelope, addressed to her was propped on the mantel. She picked it up and read the handwritten note inside.

 _Dear Van,_

 _So nice to have a family member staying in Aunt Alice and Uncle Nate's cabin. Can't wait to see you and your new beau. Let me know what day we can all get together. It'll be fun to reminisce about summers and Christmases at the cabin, not that we haven't done that before! It never gets old, does it? LOL_

 _Call me when you get in so I know you made it and are safe and sound._

 _Love you,_

 _Daphne_

The phone was on an end table. Vanessa plopped into the recliner next to the table, lifted the phone headset, and dialed Daphne's number.

Vanessa waited … and waited.

Nothing. No dial tone, no beeps, no recorded messages. Just dead air.

Vanessa pulled the headset away from her ear and stared at it as if it could explain the silence. She shrugged and dialed again. Again, silence prevailed. That's when she realized there was no dial tone at all. The phone was completely dead. Odd. Maybe her cell phone would work. Hardly likely, but she had to try.

She rose to go to the bedroom. Her purse (with cell phone) and suitcase were on the bed.

Movement at the side window caught her eye. Well, she thought she saw something out there, like a person walking past the window. But it was almost dark, she couldn't be certain. Probably just her own shadow or something. Who'd be up here at this time of day sneaking around the cabin?

She took two steps toward the hall that led to the bathroom and two bedrooms. A knock at the front door stopped her cold.

Who was that? She turned toward the door. She knew without a doubt that it was not Joe. Too early for him. Besides he would've called. Um, no, he couldn't call, the phone was dead. Still, too soon for Joe. By Vanessa's calculations, it would be an hour to an hour and a half before he got there.

Maybe it was Daphne, or Ron, come to check on her because the phone was out. Yes, that made sense. That made perfect sense.

She looked at the side window and thought about that figure she'd seen. Now, she was positive she'd seen someone walk past the window. Seemed odd for Daphne or Ron to creep past the windows. _Oh!_ Maybe it was one of the kids. Yes, one of the girls must have been playing outside and skipped past the window.

Another knock at the door caused Vanessa to move haltingly. A feeling of unease twisted her stomach. Something seemed off. Wouldn't Ron or Daphne have called through the door? _Hey, Van! It's Ron, just stopped by to check on you._

Vanessa decided to go to the dining room and peek out the window there. It faced the porch. She'd have a good view of whoever was at the front door.

She crept into the dining room and to the window. The window had café curtains. They left a lot of exposed glass. Vanessa got real low and practically crawled to the window. She wondered if she was being ridiculous. Taking too many precautions? Daphne or Ron would surely laugh at her if they saw how she was creeping around. Vanessa smiled a little at that thought. However, the old adage; _better safe than sorry_ , popped into her head and she decided her caution was warranted.

Vanessa parted the curtains and peeked out. The sky was bleak and dark gray. A man stood on the porch, his back to her. Atop his head was a cowboy hat.

 _Ron!_

Relief flooded Vanessa's body. God, how silly she'd been … thinking … well, what had she been thinking? Who cared? Better answer the door and let Ron in before he froze out there. Oh, and one of the girls. That movement at the window. One of the girls was with him.

Vanessa switched on the porch light and opened the door. The man on the porch had his head down. The cream colored cowboy hat hid his face. Vanessa saw a rugged man in a cowboy hat, sheepskin coat, jeans, and work boots. Attire Ron would wear.

The man lifted his head and his face came into view.

So not Ron. The bright smile on Vanessa's face dropped like a lead weight. Who was this man? Was he lost? How did he get here? She looked over his shoulder and saw no car in the driveway.

The man smiled and it chilled Vanessa more than the cold air sweeping in from outside. His smile held no warmth and no kindness. It was a hollow replica of a smile. He'd learned to smile when he was young, but had never mastered all the components. He did not possess the necessary emotions. Empathy for his fellow man was beyond him.

"C.. can I help you?" Vanessa stumbled over the words.

It was the second time today Ethan had been asked that question. First, at the grocery store by Amy and now here.

Vanessa was half-hidden behind the door. Her right hand had a death grip on the doorknob. She was ready to slam the door shut and bolt the locks. Then the second man approached, dressed exactly like the first. Cowboy hat, sheepskin coat, jeans, and boots. The second man climbed the porch steps and tipped his head at Vanessa.

"Evening, miss." Sean stopped far to the right of his brother. Far enough apart that Vanessa could not keep both men in sight at the same time. Her pale blue eyes darted between the two.

Sean sensed Vanessa's apprehension and gave his prepared speech. "My brother and I require assistance. The roads are awfully icy tonight. We are, unfortunately, not accustomed to such conditions and our lack of experience has led to our downfall. Our vehicle has been rendered inoperable. It is stuck in a ditch a mile down the road. It would be much appreciated if we could use your phone."

Vanessa inwardly shook herself, momentarily thrown for a loop. What a strange way of talking. Kind of formal and old-fashioned and maybe a little bit western. For some reason it put her on edge.

"I .. I .." Vanessa hesitated. The idea of either man in the cabin sent a wave of panic through her. Why? Neither man had done anything untoward. "My phone's dead." The words came out abrupt and harsh.

An unpleasant thought had sprang to her mind. Had one of the men cut the phone wires? One of them had walked past the living room window. She was positive of that now.

Why had they walked past the window? Were they casing the place? Neither of them looked like the casing type. But then, what did the casing type look like?

Sean took a step toward the door and Vanessa tensed. "That is most unfortunate," he said. "Perhaps miss, you would be so kind as to allow us to come in and warm ourselves. It's mighty cold out here and a long walk back to our vehicle."

Would she deny them a moment of warmth? It _was_ frightfully cold out. Her stockinged feet were numb from just standing there with the door cracked. How cold were they after a long walk?

"Of course," Vanessa heard herself say. "Come in. I'll make coffee."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Daphne was worried about Vanessa. Cousin Vanessa should be at the cabin by now. It was five pm and dark outside. The snow was coming down in thick flakes. The forest outside Daphne's cabin had turned into a wintery wonderland. A wonderland filled with dangers. Slippery roads and an ice storm being just two of them.

Why hadn't Vanessa called?

Gabby, the younger of Daphne's two daughters, ran into the kitchen. "Can we have some hot chocolate, mama?" She hitched a tiny thumb over her shoulder. "Haley told me to ask."

Yeah, Haley would do that. The age old trick. Send the youngest to ask. Mama was more likely to give in to the younger one than the older one.

"In a minute." Daphne peered over the café curtains above the kitchen sink. It was pitch black outside. She couldn't see a thing except snowflakes sticking to the window.

Daphne turned to her daughter. "Mama's worried about cousin Vanessa. Let me try calling her again and then I'll make some hot chocolate."

Gabby bolted forward and hugged her mother's leg. "You're the best mama in the whole world!"

"Yeah, yeah," Daphne said, limping to the phone. "Let go of mama's leg. I have to call cousin Vanessa."

Gabby released her mother's jean clad leg and skipped into the family room to tell her sister the good news about the hot chocolate.

A few minutes later, Daphne replaced the phone headset in its cradle on the kitchen counter. She drummed her fingers on her chin. The line was dead. A recorded message had said to try the number again, which she had with the same disappointing results. Not a good sign. Not at all.

Haley poked her head around the door frame. "Is the hot chocolate ready?"

Daphne eyed her oldest warily. "Um, no. I couldn't get ahold of cousin Vanessa. Her phone's out and I'm worried about her."

Daphne plopped in a chair at the dining room table. She needed a moment to think, to figure out what to do next. Haley approached cautiously and laid a small hand on her mother's arm.

"It's okay, mama." The little girl stroked her mother's arm. "Maybe her phone'll work when the snow stops."

Daphne peered at the kitchen window and her mouth hardened into a grimace. Snowflakes and ice crystals were stuck to the window. What a cold, wicked night. Ice might have brought down some power lines.

Daphne patted her daughter's hand. "Yeah, you're probably right. Let me get that hot chocolate started."

Daphne pushed out of her chair and headed to the stove.

"With whipped cream?" Haley peered up at her mother with hopeful eyes.

Daphne lit the burner and stared down at her daughter for a second. Oh, what the heck. "Sure, with whipped cream."

"And cherries?" Haley battered her eyelashes and an angelic smile curled her lips.

"Cherries?" Daphne laughed. "You're really pushing it, Hale. We haven't even had dinner yet. Cherries'll spoil your appetite."

"Oh, no, they won't! Me and Gabby'll eat all our dinner. We swear." Haley crossed her heart solemnly.

"Yeah!" Gabby chimed from the doorway.

The little imp. She'd been listening the whole time.

"Okay, okay." Daphne waved her hands in a shooing motion. "You two go play some more. I'll call you when the chocolate's ready."

Victory won, the girls scampered into the family room with big smiles.

Daphne filled the kettle with water and placed it on the burner then called Ron on the landline.

Ron answered on the first ring. He was part of the small Pine Crest police force. It had six full-time employees and twenty part-time employees. Ron, a full-time employee and acting Police Chief, was manning the phones tonight.

Daphne explained to her husband about Vanessa.

"I can't get a hold of her," Daphne said. "I've tried and tried. I think the phone lines must be down at the cabin. It's snowing to beat the band out here. Vanessa might not have reached the cabin and with this weather … Well, with this weather she could've slid off the road and be trapped somewhere or trying to hike to the cabin."

Ron rubbed his chin. "Could be. We've already had one accident this afternoon. Marge Sutton."

Daphne grinned. Everyone knew Marge, Pine Crest's oldest resident. Marge Sutton was eight-two, if not older, and blind as a bat. What she was doing driving on a day like this (or any day for that matter) was anyone's guess.

Ron explained what had happened. No surprise that Marge went into a skid, plowed into a parked car, and wound up blocking Main Street for an hour. Thankfully, no one was hurt, not even Marge.

"We just got her car off the street," Ron said. "Henry's driving her home now. I'll have him head your way after he drops her off. He can do a quick check of road conditions on the mountain. If it's too icy or snowy, he'll call Ernie with the snowplow and salt. If Vanessa's stuck on the road, Henry'll find her."

"Thanks, hon. I feel so much better now, but I'll feel even better when I know Vanessa's safe and sound at the cabin."

"Me, too. Let me get Henry on the radio. Give my love to the munchkins."

"I will. Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, too, darling."

Daphne ended the call. The kettle hissed and squealed. She turned off the burner and went about making hot chocolate. Three cups. Three big helpings of whipped cream. Three cherries, one for each cup. She said a silent prayer over the cups and then turned to call the girls.

"It's ready!" they shouted. Their eyes twinkled and joyous smiles lit their small faces. They'd been peeking around the door for the last five minutes just waiting for Daphne to notice them.

Daphne laughed. She got on her knees and held out her arms. "Come here you two. Give me a hug."

They raced into their mother's arms, wavy blonde hair flying behind them. Daphne wrapped her arms around her daughters and breathed in their little girl scent. She felt her heart swell and fill with love.

"I love you two."

Haley pulled back and gazed into her mother's damp eyes. "We love you, too, mama. Don't cry."

Daphne put a hand on each child's cheek. "Mama just loves you all so much that … that sometimes it hurts." She kissed each girl's cheek. "You two are precious to me. Oh, and Daddy sends his love. He's going to have Henry look for cousin Vanessa."

Haley laid a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Henry's the best. He'll find cousin Vanessa for sure." Said with all the confidence of a seven-year-old.

Daphne gave her daughter a watery smile. She hoped Haley was right.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The men stood in the cabin. Vanessa assumed they were brothers. Their appearance and manner were so similar one could draw no other conclusion.

Vanessa noticed that they stayed a part. One to the left of her and one to the right. They kept far enough apart that she could never lay eyes on both of them at the same time. That separation made her uneasy and uncomfortable.

"It is a nice cabin," Sean said.

Vanessa kept her tone light, "Thanks. I'll start some coffee." Fill them with coffee and send them on their way. That was her plan.

Ethan scanned the living room and his eyes came to rest on the fireplace. "A fire would be nice."

Sean nodded. "Yes, it would. Looks as if the timber has been made ready. All it needs is a match." He looked at Vanessa. She had turned to go to the kitchen. "A warm fire would chase the chill from our bones," he said.

Vanessa turned to face him. What should she say? Starting a fire meant the men would stay longer and that was something she did not want.

Sean asked, "May I, fair lady? May I start a fire?" He extended an arm toward the fireplace.

Vanessa bit her lower lip. The fire was supposed to be for her and Joe. Not these two strangers. Besides, she didn't want the men in the cabin one moment longer than necessary. The plan was to make them coffee and keep them in the kitchen – slash – dining room. She did not want them getting cozy and now that she thought about it, really thought about it, neither man appeared to be … well, cold. Neither one had come in shivering or shaking. No chattering teeth. Had they really walked a mile up the road?

 _Up the road_.

The words seared her brain. They had chosen to walk _up_ the road, not _down_. Down would have made more sense. Always easier to go _down_ a mountain especially on a night like this. The men had passed two cabins on their drive up. Surely, they'd seen the driveways, maybe even the lights from the cabins.

If they'd hiked down the road they could have stopped at either of those cabins.

A new thought zipped through Vanessa mind. What if these men had stopped at her cousin's cabin? The thought sent a chill down her spine. Better they were here and not with Daphne and the two little girls.

"A fire?" Sean said snapping Vanessa out of her thoughts.

"Oh, um …" Fear nibbled at the edges of her mind. They had come _up_ the mountain.

"Someone has prepared the logs," Sean said. "You?"

"No, my husband did. He'll be here soon." The words came out in a rush. The possibility of a man on the way might hurry these brothers along. Maybe they would decide to leave.

"Your hand." Ethan pointed at Vanessa's left hand, the one where a wedding ring should be.

None was there. She thought of saying she'd left it in the kitchen or the bedroom, but did not want to compound her lie.

"There is no wedding band," Sean said and his eyes slid from Vanessa to his brother.

Ethan shook his head woefully. "She has lied to us, brother. And you know how I feel about lies."

Vanessa watched the men exchange glances. It was impossible to read their expressions because no emotion touched their faces. No tension stiffened their bodies. But Vanessa knew that in that moment she had made a mistake. A terrible one. She had lied and the men had sensed it immediately.

"My boyfriend. He's my boyfriend." She tried to play it off. Tried to smile, but only managed a weak imitation. "We're planning our wedding. I jumped the gun, said husband when I meant boyfriend."

 _Another lie!_ No wedding plans were in the works. _Oh please, dear God, help me._

Ethan cocked his head and stared at her. "You lie to us yet again."

Sean stared at her from beneath the brim of his hat. "I cannot fathom the reason for this untruthfulness. We have been nothing but gentlemen. We have asked for very little, only refreshment and warmth."

Vanessa's mind raced and her heart hammered in her chest. She had to placate them. Had to make amends. Or perhaps, she should run. Lock herself in the bedroom. Push all the furniture in front of the door.

She spun, planned to run to the bedroom, but Ethan's hand was on her wrist and tightened around it like a steel cuff. His other hand came up and grabbed her hair on the side of her head. His fingers tangled in her hair and pain laced through her scalp. He yanked her to the side. She stumbled and almost fell. Only his iron grip kept her upright. He backed her up against the wall and held her there, one hand circled around her neck. His other hand now pinned her left wrist to the wall above her head. His fingers and thumb squeezed her neck. Pressed it hard and cut her air in half.

She squirmed and brought her free hand up to claw at the hand around her neck. His icy blue eyes told her not to. There would be pain if she did, unspeakable pain. Blood roared like a freight train in her head as she struggled for air.

Sean removed his hat and fingered the brim. "Brother, I believe we were going to make the young lady's acquaintance first."

Sean came closer and Vanessa sought his eyes. They were a startling blue. Beautiful, Vanessa would have said. Beautiful and terrifying. They gave her no hope of rescue. His eyes were as empty as his brother's.

Who were these men? Neither one had shown any emotion. None. No rage, no anger. No sympathy, no concern. Their faces were smooth and untarnished, devoid of smile or frown lines. Their eyes held no warmth, no trace of human kindness. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then these men had no souls.

Ethan's hand relaxed around Vanessa throat and she sucked in a breath.

Ethan's hands dropped to his side and he stepped back. "You are right, brother."

Vanessa bent forward coughing and sputtering.

Sean politely said, "Miss, we would like to know your name."

Vanessa's mind whirled as she filled her lungs with air. Her name? They wanted to know her name? The world had gone mad. Stark raving mad. One minute they wanted to kill her and the next … the next they wanted to know her name.

She coughed into her fist and croaked, "Va .. Vanessa."

Sean angled his head toward his brother. "It is a pleasing name."

"It is at that," Ethan agreed. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. "Do you smell that, brother?"

Sean lifted his nose. "I do indeed. It seems we have arrived in time for dinner."

Vanessa wiped a tear from the corner of an eye. Dinner? They wanted dinner? Was it possible they would eat and leave? She quickly dismissed the idea. No, they were here for other things. Horrible things.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Henry DuPont settled Miss Marge Sutton in her easy chair in front of the TV.

"Shoulda been here the whole day," he muttered half to Miss Sutton and half to himself. She shouldn't a been out trying to shop on one of the worse weather day's Pine Crest had seen in years.

Old people, Henry thought.

"Anyone ever tell you you're handsome?" Miss Sutton cooed.

Henry cringed and his spine stiffened. He wondered if she'd been drinking. It would explain her rash decision to drive. But then, at her age she shouldn't be driving at all.

Henry let out a heavy sigh. "Here, let's get this nice, warm blanket over your legs."

"You're a true gentleman, Henry. Strange you never married." Marge screwed up her face and stared at Henry as if waiting for an answer.

Henry had lived all thirty-two years of his life in Pine Crest. He'd known Marge Sutton for half of those years. She was a retired high school teacher who'd served on countless town committees since and at that moment he had no response to her comment. It was an awkward moment to say the least. His radio saved him.

"Henry? Chief Ron here, what's your status?"

Henry thumbed his lapel mike. "Miss Sutton is home and safely tucked into her favorite easy chair."

"Good. Very good, Henry. Give Miss Sutton mine, and the department's, best regards and then report to Bear Mountain Road. We've got a possible missing person."

"Roger that. Saying good-bye to Miss Sutton now."

Henry turned to Marge Sutton. "Got another call, ma'am." He wished Miss Sutton a good night, extended the police department's well wishes for a Happy Holiday, and scooped his hat off the stained and messy coffee table.

When he was finally outside, Henry stood a minute on Miss Sutton's porch. He was glad to be out of the cluttered home, but hated the chilly air whipping round his neck and ears. He settled his Smokey the Bear hat on his head and zipped up his Carhartt jacket. The wind tore at the collar and he wished he'd had the foresight to bring his earmuffs on patrol tonight.

He made his way to his patrol car, boots crunching in the snow. Gawd, he hated winter. Technically, there was another week before winter officially started. Guess someone forgot to tell the weather.

He got in his patrol car and grabbed his gloves off the dashboard. They were ice cold. Should've taken them inside when he'd helped Marge Sutton in, but he'd had his hands full then. Quite full. Marge wasn't exactly a lightweight.

He started the engine, cranked up the heat, and keyed the car's radio. "Ron? Henry here. I'm on my way to Bear Mountain Road. ETA ten minutes."

"Thanks, Henry. The missing person is Daphne's cousin, Vanessa Bender. She's approximately twenty-seven, has long blonde hair, and blue eyes. She's supposed to be at Alice Draper's cabin. She was scheduled to arrive around two or three this afternoon. Said she'd call Daphne when she got to the cabin. Daphne hasn't heard from her and is worried. Given the weather, I'm thinking the phone lines might be down. And since there's no cell service at the top of the mountain we have no way of knowing if Vanessa made it up there or not."

"Leave it to me, Chief. I've got chains on my vehicle. Those'll probably get me to the cabin. I'll report in when I'm there."

"Thanks, Henry. Be extra careful on that road, ya hear? Don't need any more accidents tonight. Over and out."

Henry planned on being extra careful. He knew that mountain road well and the hazards it presented.

# # # #

They sat at the big, oak table with mugs of coffee. The three of them. The brothers drank their coffee leisurely while they chatted. Vanessa had barely touched her coffee. She'd offered Christmas cookies she'd bought at the store. The brothers had declined the cookies and now casually discussed the merits of homemade foods versus store bought foods.

They talked in that weird way of theirs, unemotional and distant. Almost robotic. Their speech and manner unnerved Vanessa. Internally, she was terrified, shocked, and panicky. She had come to realize that the English language lacked a word to adequately describe the emotion of utter and complete hopelessness.

One thought took center stage in her mind; would she, by some miracle, survive the night? She had serious doubts. Things were peaceful now, but she harbored no illusions they would stay that way.

The men had guns. She had seen them when the men removed their coats and hung them on the coatrack. Revolvers were stuck in the waistbands of their jeans. One brother had retrieved two rifles and a box of ammunition from the front porch. The rifles and bullets now sat on the coffee table in the living room alongside the candies.

Candies and rifles. Two things that did not belong together.

Vanessa's thoughts turned to her cousin. Would Daphne be worried when Vanessa didn't call? Would Daphne, or Ron, drive up to the cabin? _Could_ they drive to the cabin? Were the roads too slick now?

Ron was a police chief. He had the power to make things happen. Maybe he would send a snowplow or a patrol car. Would any of that help her? She had no idea how the brothers would react if someone knocked on the door.

And what about Joe? Would he be able to make it up the mountain? If he did, what would the brothers do? Would they shoot him? Why else did they have guns?

Anguish twisted Vanessa's gut. On the one hand, she wanted someone to come to her rescue. However, on the other hand she dreaded the very thought of her rescuer winding up as a victim of the brothers.

Ethan's voice broke into Vanessa's thoughts. "How much longer until dinner is ready?"

Vanessa lifted her head, took a sip of cold coffee, and eyed the clock on the wall. "An hour. Maybe less." She hated that her voice trembled.

What did these men _really_ want? Was their motive robbery? There was little of value in the cabin. A TV and some iron sculptures. None worth more than a few hundred dollars. Vanessa had some cash in her purse – around three hundred dollars – and a credit card. Was any of that worth killing for?

A shiver trickled down Vanessa's spine. People had been killed for a lot less.

Vanessa pushed her mug aside and looked at the brothers. "I need to check the stew."

The brothers exchanged glances. The blond one, Sean, nodded at Vanessa and said, "You may. The food smells delicious. My brother and I grow hungrier by the minute."

If he meant his statement as a compliment it failed to impress Vanessa or relieve her stress. She rose and headed to the oven. Joe was supposed to arrive when the stew was ready. One hour from now. Vanessa's hands shook as she shoved them into oven mitts.

What would happen when Joe arrived? _If,_ Joe arrived, she reminded herself. _If_ …

The roads …

The weather …

# # # #

Henry pulled his patrol car alongside the black truck. Now, who would leave a nice truck parked here, at the entrance to the driveway of Alice Draper's cabin? Henry noted that the truck could not be seen from the cabin. The driveway was long and midway up it hooked a mean right.

Henry put his car in park and climbed out. An arctic blast tugged at his hat. The hat's drawstring kept it from flying off his head. Henry walked the few steps to the truck. An inch of snow had settled on the hood and roof. Henry peered through the windows. The back windows were heavily tinted and crusted with snow crystals. He couldn't see a darn thing in the back of the truck.

He moved to the driver's window and wiped it with the sleeve of his jacket. He unclipped the mag-lite on his belt and shone it through the window. Nothing of interest jumped out. The interior was neat and clean, kind of like a rental vehicle. No coats, hats, or gloves. No personal items as far as Henry could tell. He wondered if this was Vanessa's vehicle. But why leave it here just a few yards from the cabin?

Had she had an accident? Had the vehicle stopped working?

Henry thumbed the mag-lite to bright and ran the beam over the truck. No flat tires. No scrapes or dents. He played the beam along the snow covered road. He saw his own footprints, but no skid marks. Of course, if there'd been any, they were long gone now, buried beneath the rapidly falling snow.

Henry rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. Looked like someone had just pulled the truck over and parked it here. Seemed an odd thing to do. Why leave a perfectly good vehicle by the side of the road? And where the heck was the occupant or occupants? Could be more than one person.

Alice Draper's cabin seemed the logical place. Henry switched off his mag-lite and squinted at Alice's driveway. The driving wind and falling snow made it difficult to see far.

Henry pondered the situation. The driveway was steep and it had that tricky curve. He gave half a shrug. Maybe Vanessa thought she couldn't negotiate the driveway in the current weather conditions. Maybe she'd decided to hoof it the rest of the way.

Henry reclipped the mag-lite on his belt and climbed into his patrol car. The answers to his questions lay a few yards away … at Alice Draper's cabin.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Vanessa closed the oven door. The stew was bubbling and smelled delicious. The stew that was supposed to be for Joe. And _only_ Joe. This was his favorite meal. She'd wanted their first night at the cabin to be special. Just the two of them.

 _Welcome to my aunt's cabin. Welcome to a part of my past. Let me tell you why I love this place so much._

That wasn't going to happen now. Not with two strangers sitting at her Aunt's beloved oak table. Vanessa didn't even know their names. They never used names. They simply called each other _brother_.

Vanessa shucked off the oven mitts and laid them on the counter. "I turned up the temperature. The food'll be ready in about thirty minutes," she told the brothers.

Sean stood and Vanessa involuntarily flinched.

He held up his mug. "More coffee would be nice."

Vanessa nodded and took the mug. "Yes, of course."

She turned back to the counter and the coffeemaker. Lights appeared in the window over the sink. The lights were a reflection from the window above the dining room table. She turned and her breath caught in her throat. She could see clearly above the café curtains. Headlights were bouncing up the driveway.

Could it be Joe? He wasn't due for another forty minutes or so. Maybe the road wasn't as bad as she thought.

Hope and fear warred inside her. Was this good news or bad? Suddenly, she didn't want Joe there. This night was going to end in one way, and one way only … in someone's death. Every frazzled nerve of her being told her that.

"Lights," one of the brothers said.

"Indeed there are," the other brother said.

Both men's voices were calm and detached. How could they be so calm? Vanessa felt dizzy, like she might pass out. A dark foreboding formed in her stomach. Both men were up and moving to the living room.

Sean snagged a rifle from beside the coatrack and strode to the living room window that overlooked the porch. He crouched at the corner of the window and pushed back the curtain half an inch.

Ethan put a hand on the butt of the revolver tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He tipped his head at Vanessa. "Finally, the boyfriend arrives."

His eyes bore into hers and physically backed her up. She bumped into the wall and swallowed hard.

Sean, at the window, said, "Miss Vanessa, what is your boyfriend's occupation?"

Vanessa's mind raced. Why that question? Why was Joe's job important? How could that possibly be relevant at this moment?

Ethan moved closer to her. She saw his jaw clench and a hand coil into a tight fist.

"Detective. He's a detective." The words flew out of her mouth. She spoke the truth because she saw no reason to hide it.

"He is out of the car," Sean said. "He is looking around. He seems puzzled."

Sean was relaying the information to his brother. For Vanessa, though, Sean's words brought a sense of dread. How did Joe get here so fast?

# # # #

Henry stood beside his patrol car and scanned the driveway and cabin. A car was parked in front of the porch. Someone was definitely here. Vanessa? Add someone, or someones, from the truck parked at the bottom of the driveway and that made, at the minimum, two people in the cabin.

Icy wind seeped past Henry's fleece collar and down his neck. Fat snowflakes landed on his hat and coat. He'd sure like to get inside. Inside, he could solve this mystery and get warm. He dipped his head into the wind and trudged to the cabin's porch. Light glowed from almost every window and the porch light was on, too. Was Vanessa expecting a visitor? Ron hadn't mentioned anyone.

Henry knocked on the door and was surprised when it swung open before he finished knocking. The bright light from inside blinded him and he brought a hand up to shield his eyes. He blinked and squinted at the man standing in the doorway.

Henry's jaw dropped and a sick fear rippled through him. His skin tingled and his mind tried desperately to make sense of what he saw … a man with a revolver. Henry couldn't miss the gun. It was aimed at his chest. Before another thought passed through Henry's mind, the man pulled the trigger.

 _Bang!_

The crack of the revolver reverberated in Henry's ears and white hot pain exploded in his chest. It felt like someone had thrust a scolding hot poker straight through his ribcage. He clutched his chest and fell. His hat flipped over and covered his face. He lay on the porch, blood thundering in his ears. He thought he heard a scream … a high-pitched wail of anguish.

Then blackness engulfed him.

# # # #

A scream tore from Vanessa's throat and she dashed for the door. She saw the body lying on the porch.

"Nooooooo!" _Joe! He'd shot Joe in cold blood!_

She pushed past Ethan and kneeled beside the body. The clothes were unfamiliar. Not Joe's clothes, yet she knew these clothes. A police officer's uniform.

 _They'd killed a policeman._

Not Joe, she told herself.

A hand twisted in her hair and yanked her to her feet. Savage pain raced over her scalp. She saw the revolver come up and felt it hard against her temple. Terror leached into her, drop by terrible drop. Suddenly, she wanted to live. She had to be alive when Joe arrived. Suddenly, that was more important than anything else.

The other brother, Sean, stood in the doorway. His dark silhouette blocked some of the light spilling around him from inside. He stepped onto the porch – rifle in hand – and nudged the policeman with the toe of his boot.

"Dead," Sean said and turned to his brother. "It is cold outside. I suggest we return to the comfort of the cabin." He paused a beat. "Unless you have another suggestion, brother."

Ethan held Vanessa by the hair with the revolver to her temple. Her pulse hammered in her head. She needed to be alive when Joe arrived. It was the only way she could save him from the same fate as the policeman.

Ethan tipped his head toward the cabin. "Inside is much preferred over outside." His eyes found Vanessa's. "We have a dinner waiting for us and I am most anxious to try it."

"As am I," Sean agreed.

Ethan dragged Vanessa by the hair and the three made their way into the cabin.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

It was dark by the time Joe reached the turnoff to the mountain. As promised, he called Vanessa. After two rings a recorded message came on the line.

" _We're sorry, the number you have called has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please hang up and try your call again."_

Probably punched in a wrong number, Joe thought and tried the call again.

He got the same recording and hung up before the voice finished the message.

Damn, probably punched in a wrong number again. He was in a hurry. Mistakes were bound to happen.

He doubled checked the number and punched it in yet again, slow and careful this time.

The same recording sounded in his ear and he hung up.

The wind was vicious outside. Tree branches swayed in the frigid air and icy snow rained down from them. Add that to the snow falling and it was a wintery mess outside the SUV.

Joe had listened to the weather channel on the drive here. An ice storm warning was in effect for the next twelve hours. Ice storms were deadly. Ice would coat tree branches and made them heavy. Rotten timber and branches would fall and block roads or damage homes and vehicles, or worse, bring down power lines.

Could've happened at the cabin. Power lines might be down. Vanessa probably didn't even know the phone was out. He tried calling her on his cell. No bars, no service, no nothing. Not good news. She was going to be worried. Well, he couldn't help that. Best thing now was to get to the cabin.

He'd have to navigate a twisty, slippery mountain road in the dark and cold and wind. Not his idea of fun. He switched the headlights to high and proceeded with caution.

His Army training sent him into strategic mode. He had to get to the cabin and assess the situation. Were there any old trees near the cabin? How close were the power lines? Had a tree fallen on the cabin? Had Vanessa been hurt? A thousand thoughts crowded his mind. He thought of what he would do in each situation. He would arrive prepared, mentally at least.

The road curved to the right and his tires skidded on the icy pavement. He took his foot off the gas and the SUV slowed to a crawl. Realistically, he should get out and put the snow chains on. A gust of wind shuddered the vehicle and he decided he didn't want to be outside any sooner than necessary. The SUV had snow tires. Hopefully, those would be enough to get him to the cabin. It shouldn't be too long until he was there. Thirty minutes Vanessa had said.

The temperature gauge in the SUV said it was twenty degrees outside. As the road climbed he watched the temperature drop another two degrees. The ice was getting worse. No doubt about that. He slowed to let the weight of the vehicle provide what traction it could.

He kept a sharp eye out. The left side of the road was a sheer drop off. Had to stay away from that edge. Even going slow, he felt the tires slip a little, losing what traction they had.

The road curved to the left and he felt the SUV slide. The road was definitely getting slicker. The turn off for the cabin's driveway couldn't be too far now, could it?

He eased into a right-hand curve and the tires lost traction completely. Suddenly, the SUV was sliding to the left, toward the sheer drop off.

 _Why the hell didn't they have guardrails up here?!_

He pumped the brakes and the tires slid and caught. Slid and caught. He fought with the steering wheel, got the SUV righted and kept it pointed away from the drop off. Finally, the tires caught for good and the SUV skidded to a stop short of the edge.

 _Thank you, God._

Joe leaned his head against the steering wheel and let out a ragged breath.

 _Damn, that was close. Way too close._

He sat up straight. Okay, he'd walk the rest of the way. No sense in risking his life. He wouldn't be any good to Vanessa if he was dead.

He eased the SUV to the right side of the road and parked it in the shallow ditch. The snow was coming down hard. The wind was gusting and icy snow rained from tree branches. In these conditions, ice-heavy branches would snap and come down.

Joe pulled on his knit cap. Pulled it down over his ears then pushed the driver's seat back and wrestled himself into his hooded parka. Underneath, he wore a thermal undershirt and a sweater. His upper body was pretty well protected. His legs were vulnerable. Only jeans protected them from the cold. But he'd be walking, that should be good enough. His feet were fine. He had on thick, wool socks and big heavy, waterproof boots.

He leaned over, grabbed his gloves off the passenger seat, and a flashlight from the glove compartment. A flashlight was a mandatory item in all Hardy vehicles. This being dad's vehicle, Joe knew the flashlight would be there. A survival kit was in the back, but Joe didn't think he'd need that. The walk to the cabin shouldn't be more than a mile or so. The survival kit would stay, but he'd take his backpack. After all, it was his suitcase. All his clothes and shaving kit were in it.

He got out of the SUV and pulled the parka's hood over his knit cap. At the back of the SUV he loosened the backpack's straps and struggled to get the damn thing on his shoulders. His breath plumed in front of his face as he fought with the pack. Finally, he got it on. Okay, he was set. He pulled on the gloves, switched on the flashlight, and started walking. His right foot slipped and he almost fell. Yeah, the road was super slick. He fanned the flashlight beam over the road. Patches of ice glittered in the light. He moved to the snow filled ditch. Here, his boots had traction.

And so he went, trudging through the ditch. The wind blew snowflakes into his face and stung his cheeks. He ran the flashlight's beam over the ground and counted the seconds until he would see Vanessa. He imagined her greeting him with open arms at the cabin's door.

He thought of the dead phone and something unpleasant stirred in his gut. Did she know the line was dead? Yeah, she probably did. Wasn't she going to call her cousin when she got to the cabin? But …the phone might've been working then, when she called. So, back to, she might not know the line was dead. She might be worried about him. Maybe she thought he'd been in an accident and that was why he hadn't called.

They were both probably worried about each other. Well, everything would be sorted out when he got to the cabin.

He blew out a sigh and watched his breath cloud in the air. A blast of wind swept it away.

He trudged onward and upward. He couldn't wait to get out of the cold and snow and wind and into Vanessa's arms. That would be nice … Vanessa's warm embrace.

First thing he was going to do when he got to the cabin was start a fire. As big a fire as the fireplace would hold. Then snuggle down in front of it with Vanessa at his side.

That thought put a smile on his frozen face.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Rough hands propelled Vanessa into the kitchen. Her mind and body were numb. She couldn't think, couldn't put thoughts together. _Must be in shock_ , she decided. The image of the dead policeman flickered in her mind like an old black and white movie. The image would chase her the rest of her life. And how long would that be? That was the real question. How long would she live?

A heavy blow plowed into the middle of her back and sent her stumbling forward. She lost her balance and fell. Her face struck the edge of the counter and cut her cheek below the right eye. She collapsed on the wood floor, blood oozing from the gash.

Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them back. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of this man, the man who was probably going to kill her just like he'd killed the policeman.

 _No, she would never cry in front of him or his brother._

"Stand." Ethan's voice was calm, but firm.

He motioned her up. She pushed up on wobbly legs and leaned her hips against the kitchen counter. Warm blood trickled down her cheek and dripped on her sweater.

"You did not tell us your boyfriend was a police detective." Ethan's tone held a trace of amusement.

What? Oh! They thought the dead policeman was Joe. When asked about Joe's job, she had said he was a detective. The brothers had jumped to the conclusion that Joe was a police detective. In their eyes, the man lying dead on the porch was her boyfriend.

Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. She would not tell these strange men the truth. The truth was her edge, the only thing that might save her … and Joe.

Now, she felt a smidgen of hope. When Joe arrived he would discover the police car and the dead officer. He would know then that something was wrong, that she was in danger. Hopefully, she was still alive then. No, she could not think like that. She _would_ be alive when Joe arrived. She would do everything in her power to make that happen.

She sucked in a shaky breath. Joe would know what to do when he got here. Somehow or some way, he would save her. Maybe he'd go back down the mountain and get the police.

Ethan raised a hand and Vanessa flinched. There was fear in every movement she made. Ethan's eyes found hers and they studied each other. They read each other on a deeper level. They intuited each other's background. He knew she was a woman who had been abused. The emotional scars were still visible. The small twitches. The avoidance of eye contact. The way she flinched and ducked her head when he lifted his hand.

Yes, he knew exactly what kind of life she'd had. He'd met too many women like that in his thirty-some years. These were the types of women he and his brother preyed upon.

Vanessa, for her part, recognized the kind of man he was. A man who had abused women. Somewhere in his background he'd hurt a woman, hurt her very badly, and the experience had not bothered him. The suffering of his fellow humans meant nothing to him. Only _his_ well-being, and that of his brother, mattered to him. Their needs were paramount. They would take from others what they needed and wanted and think of little else.

Vanessa knew she would receive no sympathy from him. Not that she had expected any, but now she knew it as an indisputable fact.

Ethan pointed at her bloody cheek. "You have hurt yourself. Please, clean your face. We would hate to have blood in our food. That would not please me or my brother." He glanced over his shoulder at his brother who had stood by and watched everything impassively. "You agree, brother?"

"I do and I am most anxious to partake of this meal. It smells wondrous," Sean said.

"That it does. Perhaps, you would escort Miss Vanessa to the restroom and see to her cleanliness."

"I would be most happy to." Sean extended an arm in the direction of the hall. "Please, lead the way, Miss Vanessa. I shall follow."

# # # #

The wind was relentless and bitterly cold. Joe was sure the temperature had dropped several more degrees. He walked with his head down and his shoulders hunched inside his parka. The hood of his parka took the brunt of the wind and snow.

He came upon the truck parked on the side of the road. An inch, or two, of snow covered the hood and roof. The windows were frosted with ice crystals and snowflakes. He got closer, scrubbed the driver's side window with his jacketed forearm and peered inside. He shone the flashlight over the interior. A clean and tidy cab greeted his eyes.

Whose truck was it? Why was it parked here? It looked like a relatively new truck. No dents or dings. He saw nothing to indicate it broke down. Maybe, like him, the road conditions had forced the driver to park and proceed on foot.

But to where?

The questions just kept coming.

Joe ran the flashlight's beam over the ground. The faint trace of footprints and tire tracks got his attention. The prints and tracks were quickly being filled with falling snow. Soon they would be gone completely.

Joe followed the footprints. They dead-ended at some tire tracks. He surmised someone had gotten into a vehicle and driven away. He followed the tire tracks. They led him to a driveway. He looked from the driveway to the truck. Only a few feet separated them.

The circumstances seemed odd. A nice truck parked on the side of the road. At some point in time another vehicle had been parked next to it. The second vehicle had then driven up the driveway. Rapidly disappearing tire tracks running up the drive confirmed it.

Joe aimed the flashlight's beam on the driveway. Stinging wind whipped down the long, steep drive and stung his face. The falling snow limited his view. The driveway was the last hurdle to navigate before he got to Vanessa.

And she wasn't alone, not given the two vehicles and footprints he'd seen. That very thought, the fact that she was not alone, made the back of his neck tingle. Something was wrong with this whole scenario. A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of his stomach.

That truck … it was an anomaly. Wrong place, wrong time.

The sooner he got to Vanessa, the better. He put his head down and trudged up the driveway and into the swirling snow.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Vanessa served the brothers the meal she had made for Joe.

 _Joe_.

Where was he?

If only she knew. She feared for his safety, both in driving the mountain road and in meeting the brothers. Actually, she hoped he never arrived and never met them. They would kill him as surely as they had killed the police officer.

 _The police officer_.

His murder had numbed her. She had a hard time fathoming it, believing it was real.

Oh, but it was real. All too real and his body lay cold and stiff on the porch. Probably encased in snow and ice by now.

# # # #

Joe slowed his pace as he came to the end of the driveway and surveyed the scene. The snow had died down, the storm was abating, so he had a good view of things. A patrol car and a sedan type car were parked outside the cabin. Common sense said the sedan was Vanessa's rental car. The patrol car brought up a whole new array of questions.

Accident? Medical emergency?

Instinctively, Joe switched off his flashlight. Joe was a man who trusted his instincts. In the Army, and in Afghanistan, he'd learned to rely on them. His instincts told him something was very wrong here.

A garage was off to the side and Joe stepped into the shadow of the building. A chill hovered at the base of his spine. He'd spent a long time in law enforcement, the military version, and the present scenario looked off. Something was askew. Best to approach the cabin with caution.

Of course, it was possible Vanessa had friends visiting. Hadn't Vanessa said her cousin's husband was the local police chief? Maybe her cousin, or the husband, had dropped by. Hardly seemed likely though given the weather.

Joe hunched and crept to the end of the porch. His pack shifted on his back as he started up the steps. He didn't go more than one step. Didn't need to. The police officer's body was there in plain sight bathed in the glow of the porch light. A thin layer of snow and ice covered him and told Joe the man had been laying there for a while. The officer's face was hidden under his Smokey the Bear hat. He had a gloved hand on his chest like he was ready to say the Pledge of Allegiance.

Joe moved closer and saw a dark stain on the officer's chest. It hadn't spread far, not in this cold. The man was slowly being frozen solid. Joe harbored no doubt that the man was dead and the cause was a bullet to the chest. The veins in Joe's neck pulsed.

The possibility of friends, or a cousin, visiting Vanessa were erased. Someone dangerous was in the cabin with Vanessa. The real question was, was she okay? Was she alive? Sweat broke out on Joe's neck. He prayed she was alive. If not, then all hell was about to break loose. Nothing would stop him from killing whoever was inside. Absolutely nothing.

He had to find out if she was alive and who he was dealing with. The windows overlooking the porch were curtained so he couldn't see inside. He backed off the porch and slipped into the trees bordering the property. He took cover in their shadows as he circled to the rear of the cabin. Light poured from the kitchen window and made a big, bright square on the snow.

Joe peered through the window and saw three heads. Three people sitting at a table. One person had long, blonde hair. _Vanessa_. Relief washed over Joe. At least she was alive.

It looked like the occupants of the cabin were eating. Joe focused on the two men sitting across from each other. Vanessa was between the men with her back to Joe. He wished he could see her face. It would tell him a lot about the situation in the cabin.

Since he couldn't see Vanessa's face, he studied the men, observed their profiles, their expressions, and body language. They appeared at ease, just leisurely eating and enjoying a meal. They didn't smile though, Joe noticed. Their expressions were blank. No display of emotion.

No matter how Joe looked at it, no one would be – should be – sitting in the cabin enjoying a meal when there was a dead police officer on the front porch. Had these men killed the officer? It seemed the logical conclusion and begged the question of _why_? Why kill him? And what about Vanessa? What were their plans for her?

Joe didn't relish any of the possibilities that flashed through his mind. He sucked in a deep breath and the frigid air chilled in his throat and lungs.

Vanessa stood and Joe saw one of the men give a nod like he was giving her permission to leave. She turned toward the window and carried a plate to the sink. Now, Joe got a good look at her face and he didn't like what he saw. Anger hardened his jaw and his hands fisted inside his gloves.

One side of Vanessa's face was red and maybe bruised. Her hair was disheveled and she looked frightened. There was no mistaking that. Her eyes were wide and haunted. She looked over her shoulder and nodded submissively, anxiously to the men. One of the men must have said something. Joe watched Vanessa pour coffee and take the mugs to the men.

Joe didn't like that, the way Vanessa catered to the men. They were using her, and her fear, for their own twisted pleasure. But they'd eventually tire of her and Joe knew exactly what the end result would be. He was pretty sure Vanessa knew the end result, too. Her death.

Well, not on his watch. He looked around the snow covered ground. He needed a weapon and then he needed to get inside the cabin.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Ron glanced at the clock on the wall of the police station. It had been one hour and thirty minutes since he'd spoken to Henry. One hour and thirty minutes since he'd sent Henry up Bear Mountain to check on Daphne's cousin, Vanessa Bender.

Henry was one of the best officers Ron had. Henry was born and raised in Pine Crest. He knew Bear Mountain Road like the back of his hand. If anyone could get up that mountain on a night like this, it was Henry.

So, why hadn't Henry radioed in? It was a twenty minute drive to the top of the mountain on a good day. Should be a forty or fifty minute drive on a bad night. And tonight certainly qualified as a bad night. The worse night Pine Crest had seen in years.

Had Henry gotten stuck on the snowy road? Maybe he'd found Vanessa stuck on the snowy road and was helping her. Ron shook his head. Neither of those scenarios made sense. If either had happened, the first thing Henry would have done was radio Ron. He would have reported his location and requested immediate assistance. Cell phones might be unreliable on Bear Mountain, police radios were not. They worked just fine and besides that, there were plenty of Ham Radio Operators in town. They listened to the police frequency. If Henry had sent a message, someone would have heard it and gotten the message to the police department.

Ron checked the wall clock again. Five minutes had passed. He got up and went to the coffee machine. Filled his mug, added cream and sugar, and stirred. His movements were automatic, he stirred the coffee without thinking about. His mind was on Henry and Vanessa. The night had started with one missing person and now he had two. Two people, their whereabouts unknown.

Ron glanced at the clock again. Another five minutes gone and no word from Henry. This did not bode well for Henry or Vanessa. Ron put his coffee down and returned to his desk. He snatched up his phone and dialed Ernie, the snowplow operator. Maybe Henry had called Ernie and simply forgot to radio Ron. Or the situation on the mountain was so dire that Henry couldn't radio Ron. Not right away at least. Of course, that thought just made Ron more anxious.

"Ernie here."

Ernie's voice startled Ron. He'd forgotten he was on the phone.

"Ernie, this is Police Chief Ron, I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

Ron heard the wind in the background and assumed Ernie was out snowplowing the city streets. Tonight that would be a never ending job for Ernie and his crew.

"Did Henry DuPont call you tonight?" Ron asked.

"Huh?" The question caught Ernie by surprise. "No, haven't heard from him tonight. Heard from a lot of other folks though."

Ernie chuckled and Ron felt Ernie's smile through the connection. Ron wished he had something to smile about.

"Reason I'm calling is, I haven't heard from Henry," Ron checked the clock on the wall, "in almost two hours. I sent him up Bear Mountain to find a missing person. My wife's cousin was supposed to call this afternoon when she got to Alice Draper's cabin. I haven't heard from the cousin, or Henry, and I'm getting worried." Truthfully, he was past worried, but he kept that info to himself.

The possibility of Henry, or Vanessa, going over the side of the mountain had trickled into Ron's thoughts. Given tonight's weather and road conditions, it was a real possibility. Not a pleasant possibility by any stretch of the imagination. There might be one, or two, fatalities on Bear Mountain for all Ron knew and he had to be prepared for it.

Ernie's voice broke into Ron's thoughts, "You want me to snowplow the road? See if I can find Henry and the cousin?"

"Yes. Please. This is a top priority. If you need extra manpower, let me know. Anything you need, you got it. Just say the word. The department's footing the bill."

"Okay, Chief. I'll get myself a team and head to Bear Mountain rickety-tick. You want me to communicate with you on the police frequency?"

"Yeah, that'll be great. I'll send a patrol car as a backup for you. I'll radio you when I've got someone en route."

"Sounds good, Chief. On my way to Bear Mountain. Over and out."

God bless, Ernie, Ron thought as he hung up the phone. He and Ernie had worked together on other tricky missions, on other dangerous weather days. Ron's trust in Ernie was not misplaced. Ernie and his snowplow would make it up that mountain. Ron knew that from past experience.

Ron pulled a copy of the duty roster from under the papers on his desk. Best to get that backup headed to Ernie. Ron scanned the roster for two seconds and decided on Officer Scott. Scott was older, had years of experience on the force, and had lived on Bear Mountain as a child and teenager. He knew the twists and turns of that road and the most likely places a car might go over. Definitely the man for the job.

While Ron was on the phone he decided to call in more men. He had a feeling he was going to need the extra hands before the night was over.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Vanessa cleared the men's plates from the table and washed them at the sink. The men stayed at the table, sipping the last of their coffee and talking quietly in that strange way of theirs. Between the running water and her pounding heart, Vanessa only heard half of what they said. The main discussion seemed to be what they would do tomorrow, weather permitting.

Vanessa thought she heard one of them say they'd leave early in the morning if it wasn't snowing.

 _Morning_. Once a beautiful concept. Once something Vanessa looked forward to. Not now. What would tomorrow's dawn bring? Would Vanessa be alive to greet the day?

She dipped the washcloth in the soapy water and wrung it out. She turned and moved to the table. As she cleaned the table she felt the men's eyes on her. The blond haired man eyed her hungrily. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She saw it in the depths of his startling blue eyes.

She was an object to him. Something to be used and discarded. She turned from the table and hurried back to the sink. She glanced at the wall clock. Joe should be arriving soon.

That was, if he could make it up the hill.

Where was he? Had he had an accident? Was he stuck in town and trying to get a message to her?

How could anyone get a message to her in this weather?

A thousand other questions bounced around inside her head. So many questions and no answers.

A hand touched her shoulder. She gasped and spun around.

The blond haired man squeezed her shoulder. He was close. Too close. He took up all the space … all the air. Vanessa struggled to breathe calmly. Fear, like molten lava, rose up inside her.

"Thank you for the delicious meal, Miss Vanessa. Now it is time to retire for the night. I believe a proper young lady, such as yourself, would like to shower or bathe first."

Vanessa's mind scrambled to understand. What did he mean, shower or bathe first?

"Which will it be?" he asked. His hand was still on her shoulder, resting there like a hot, revolting mitt.

"Um …" Which would take more time, shower or bath? Time was now measured in degrees of fear. And time was inching ever closer to her final destination. Whatever that may be.

"A bath." She sounded startled and frightened, which she was.

Had she made the right choice? No way to know. Did it even matter?

Sean removed his hand from her shoulder. "A bath it is then. Let us go and prepare for this bath."

Was he going to bathe with her? A fission of fear and disgust rippled through her.

Then he said, "I shall bathe after you are finished."

For the first time that night, Vanessa breathed easily. It was a small grace to be sure, but she would take it. However, she knew in her heart that she wasn't out of danger yet. There were still many hours left in the night.

# # # #

Forty minutes later, Sean turned the brass key in the bedroom door and locked Vanessa in. Once upon a time, Vanessa had liked those big, old, brass keys and the big keyholes they fitted into. They gave the cabin character. Tonight, however, she hated them. They gave the brothers an advantage.

She was trapped. Trapped in her beloved cabin. Locked in a room she had hoped to share with Joe.

She wore a long, sexy nightgown. Something she had hoped only Joe would see. She'd bought it for him, for this night.

The blond haired man had inspected her suitcase before she'd bathed and had picked out what he wanted her to wear. He'd pulled out the nightgown and at first seemed repulsed by it. Then his expression had changed ever-so-slightly. It was the first hint of emotion she had seen from him all night.

 _Lust_.

Savage lust had smoldered in his eyes and had caused his cheek to twitch. He couldn't hide his desire and hadn't tried.

So, here she stood in his choice of nightwear. She grabbed her terrycloth robe off the bed and pulled it on. The bedroom was cold compared to the living room and kitchen.

The man's presence and the thought of what he planned to do later sent a chill down her spine. But she would survive, she told herself. Being cold wouldn't kill her. Not tonight. Being raped would not necessarily kill her either.

She listened at the door for a minute and heard the brothers talking in subdued tones. The blond man had told her he must bathe, too. And then he would come for her.

 _Come for her_. Those were his words for _rape her_.

How would she respond?

She didn't want to be in the bedroom when he came. Escape was her only option. Her suitcase lay open on the floor. She pawed through it and grabbed two pairs of wool socks. She would put on as many clothes as possible and escape through the window. Surely, she could make it down the driveway before the men discovered she was gone.

She would hide in the woods and make her way down the mountain. To the nearest cabin. It was what, two miles away?

It was a crazy plan fraught with impossible odds. She had no boots or parka. Those were by the front door in the living room. But maybe, just maybe, she would meet Joe on her way down the mountain.

She wasn't thinking clearly she realized and whispered to the room, "It doesn't matter. I'm dead if I stay here. I have to risk it."

She stuffed a foot into a wool sock. "Better to die out there in the cold than in here."

# # # #

Joe had found a weapon of sorts and tucked it in his pack. Now, hidden among the trees, he scanned the cabin's windows. Which ones were lit?

A window at the back of the cabin glowed at the edges of the curtains. Joe figured it for a bedroom window and figured Vanessa was in there. No reason for either of the men to be in a bedroom, not this early in the evening. But then, one of them could be in there with Vanessa. That brought an unsavory picture to Joe's mind and fury overtook him for a moment. If either man touched her, they were dead. Simple as that, Joe would kill them.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Jumping to conclusions. He tamped down his fury and breathed deeply. Let his heart rate settle and his mind clear from the fog of rage.

He had a mission to accomplish. Free Vanessa and get her to safety. Getting worked up about what may or may not have happened to her would only imperil the mission.

He checked the other windows at the back of the cabin and saw no movement or lights. He crouched and shuffled through the ankle deep snow to the glowing window. A trail of footprints followed in his wake.

At the window, he put his pack on the ground and pressed his back to the wall of the cabin. He adjusted the hood of his parka and cocked an ear. Strained to hear any scrap of sound from within the room.

The wind whistled through the trees and whipped around him. He inched closer to the window, put his knit cap covered head flat against the snow encrusted glass, and listened. Still no sounds.

He slumped back against the wall and thought for a moment. He needed to know exactly where Vanessa was. Standing out in the freezing wind wasn't telling him a thing. He turned a few ideas over in his mind and came to a decision. It was a bit of a gamble, but worth the risk. He removed a glove, reached out, and tapped the glass with his bare knuckles.

If Vanessa was in there, and alone, she should hear the tapping. Hopefully, she would figure it was him and open the window.

If someone else was in there, or with Vanessa, and they heard the tapping … well, things could go downhill fast.

Joe held his breath and waited.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Vanessa sat on the floor hunched over her suitcase. She had changed out of the flimsy nightgown and into jeans, two pairs of wool socks, and a thermal undershirt. She had her thickest sweater in her hands and was ready to pull it over her head.

 _Tap, tap, tap_.

She sat perfectly still and listened. Nothing. Had she imagined those three soft taps on the glass? Slowly, she turned her head toward the window.

Could it be? Was it possible?

Joe? Here?

She got to her feet and glanced at the door. She had heard the bathroom door close a few minutes ago. Most likely the blond brother was in there bathing. And then he would come for her. The thought chilled her and goosebumps rose on her arms.

Vanessa had no idea where the other brother was or what he was doing. She stepped toward the window cautiously, the sweater still in her hands.

Please, dear God, she prayed. Please, let it be Joe.

She crept to the side of the window, took a breath, and pushed the curtain aside. Her breath caught in her throat. A shadowy figure stood out there. It waved to her.

 _Joe!_

She dropped the sweater and fumbled with the window locks. Several frantic seconds passed before she got them undone. Then she pushed on the window, had to throw her weight into it. Joe helped on the other side. All the while, Vanessa cast furtive glances at the bedroom door.

How long before the blond man finished his shower?

Every second she pushed on the window was pure agony. She gave one last heave and felt it give with a loud _creak_.

She froze, her blood like ice. She turned toward the door expecting one of the men to call to her, ask her what the noise was. Or worse, enter the room and check on her.

Several nerve-racking seconds ticked by, but no one came. Vanessa sucked in a shaky breath and turned back to the window. She and Joe gingerly pushed it up. Icy wind blew into the room. Vanessa's fingers started to go numb.

And she had thought she could go out in this weather? And walk down the mountain with no boots or a jacket?

Finally, she and Joe got the window open wide enough. He hoisted his pack through and Vanessa set it quietly on the wood floor. Then Joe rolled into the room. Snow and ice came with him. It slid off his boots and jacket and puddled on the floor. As he got to his feet, Vanessa shoved the window shut.

How had the men not heard any of this? To Vanessa's ears, she and Joe had been incredibly loud. But then, her heart was pounding like a freight train. Her hearing was dulled. She had no way of knowing what kind of noise she and Joe had made. Besides, one of the brothers was still in the bathroom. She could hear the faint sound of running water.

Joe put a finger to his lips and scanned the room. He was in tactical mode, assessing the situation. A lamp on a bedside table bathed the room in a cozy glow. On any other night this room would be a welcome, romantic haven. Not tonight.

Joe noted the room's dark corners. Good places to hide and wait for adversaries.

Joe motioned Vanessa into the closet. It was large and empty. Just a few wooden hangers dangled from the rod. Vanessa hesitated only a moment and then obeyed. To her surprise, Joe followed her in and swept her into a bear hug. The cold and damp of his parka chilled her bruised cheek. It felt good though to be in his arms.

She huddled against his chest until he released her and struggled out of his parka. He wanted her close to him. Wanted to feel her body next to his. She needed that contact, too, and he knew it.

He got the parka off, let it slide to the floor, and wrapped his arms around her again. Gave her all the comfort and strength he could. The panic and fear she'd held at bay for hours finally broke free and she cried softly. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped onto his sweater.

He smoothed her hair and whispered, "Shh, you're safe now. I'm here." He felt her nod against his chest.

She sobbed some more and he murmured unintelligible things, but his voice soothed her nonetheless. She sniffed and he felt her tremble in his arms. These men had frightened and brutalized her. The bruise on her face stirred his fury, but he kept it in check. For now. One, or both of the men, had laid hands on her and they would pay for that.

He lifted her chin with a hand and gazed into her watery eyes.

"Everything's going to be fine. I have a plan." He kissed the tears from her cheeks, being extra gentle on the swollen cheek.

"They have guns." She had to warn him.

"I know."

"They … they killed …"

"I know. I saw the officer on the porch." He hugged her to him, kissed her hair and rested his chin on her head. "Don't worry, babe. I have a rock."

"Huh?" She pushed away and gaped at him. "A … a rock?" Surely, he was kidding. A rock against guns? "They … they have rifles."

He grinned. "The rock's heavy and just the right size."

She just stared at him, unbelieving. Did he understand the danger?

"Don't worry," he said. "I have everything under control." Then he laid out his plan to her.

# # # #

Joe and Vanessa sat in the big, walk-in closet. Joe pulled a sock from his backpack and stuffed the rock into the toe of the sock. He tied a knot to secure the rock in place.

Aggression throbbed through Joe. He wanted to hit somebody. Wanted to hit them very badly and he would before the night was over. Of that, he was positive.

He examined his handiwork. He'd made a simple weapon, a cross between a medieval sling and a flail. It was rudimentary, but deadly when used with sufficient force.

He would whip the rock-loaded-sock in a circle at his side to build momentum. Then, with a snap of his wrist, he would strike his target. Someone's head preferably. The rock's impact could kill or knock a person unconscious. It all depended on the applied force.

Joe controlled his rage by breathing deeply and concentrating. He had a job to do. Take down two men. He not did want distractions. Not now. He'd gone over the simple plan with Vanessa and she'd nodded her comprehension. She was, understandably, wary. Two men against one. Two men armed with rifles and handguns against a man with a rock. Joe had merely grinned at her concerns and kissed her lips.

"I know what I'm doing," he'd said. "This isn't my first battle. Have plenty of those under my belt and I always survive. Tonight's no different."

But tonight was different, she thought as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Sure, he'd been in combat. Sure, he'd faced deadly situations before, but then he'd been armed with the best equipment and weapons the Army could provide.

Now? Well, she didn't even want to think about now. It terrified her. But she had to admit, Joe seemed confident. She saw no fear, and no doubt, on his face. That gave her some confidence, too, albeit only a little.

 _I always survive_.

Please, let him survive tonight, she prayed.

"It's time," Joe whispered and they pushed off the closet floor.

Joe jerked his head toward the bedroom. Vanessa understood and slowly made her way to the bed. She pulled back the bedspread, got on the bed, and lay down. Now, they must wait for the blond brother to enter the bedroom.

He would see that Vanessa had changed into jeans and a sweater. She wasn't in the nightgown as requested. That would surely anger him. But it would be good because his attention would be focused on her – only her – and her disobedience. He would never suspect that another person lurked in the dark shadows of the room.

# # # #

Joe stood in a corner patiently waiting. The sock/rock dangled from his right hand. He believed in striking hard and fast just like they'd taught him in the Army. Tonight, he held the element of surprise. Always advantageous to strike an enemy when he least expected it. It gave the enemy no time to formulate a counterattack or defensive move.

The blond brother would come into the bedroom completely unaware of Joe hidden in the corner.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Sean stood at the bathroom counter. He turned on the faucet and soaped his hands and face. He picked up the razor and shaved. He'd tucked the razor in his jacket pocket before leaving the truck on the side of the road. He'd known what he intended to do this evening and had come prepared.

Minutes later, he toweled his face dry and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand over his smooth chin and along his jaw. He'd shaved, showered, and combed his hair. He'd gone to extra effort for this woman.

Vanessa.

Her name was nice and she seemed like a nice woman. Perhaps, a little sad though. But that wasn't his fault. He had nothing to do with her sadness. It was something in her past that made her sad. He could tell because he could read people, sense their emotions. In the orphanage, in another country, in what seemed another lifetime, he and his brother had gotten good at reading people. They'd learned to manipulate them, too, mainly women. Women were easy. They always wanted to help. The mothering instinct ran deep in women.

The women workers had fawned over the little boys and girls who didn't have a mommy and daddy.

"Poor, unfortunate little things," the women always said when they gazed upon the children.

The women – the brothers had found – would do almost anything the brothers asked, even if it was against the rules.

" _It's cold here at night. Can we have another blanket?" Ethan asked._

 _He stared up at Miss Leone. She was a thirty something, careworn women with no children of her own. She had a husband, but didn't seem to like him much. Whenever she mentioned him her face scrunched up like she'd eaten something sour._

 _Miss Leone looked down the long narrow room. It could be mistaken for a military barracks. There was no warmth and no personal touches anywhere. Twin beds lined the drab walls. Dressers stood between the beds offering space for clothing, but no privacy. Footlockers sat at the end of each bed and provided extra storage. Sadly, few children needed it. Most didn't have enough items (clothes, toys, books) to fill the dresser let alone the footlocker._

" _I'll see what I can do," Miss Leone said._

 _Sean coughed, sucked in a ragged breath, and coughed again._

 _Ethan hugged his brother to him as they sat on Ethan's bed. "I think Sean's getting a cold. The blanket's for him." Ethan put all the sadness he could muster into his voice._

" _Oh, my." Miss Leone knelt beside the bed and felt Sean's forehead with the back of her hand. "He does feel a little warm. Have you told Mrs. Novak, the headmistress? She can get you in to see Dr. Zerba."_

 _No, the brothers didn't want to see Dr. Zerba. He'd seen through their previous ploys at acting sick in order to avoid work._

 _Ethan lowered his head. "He doesn't like us. Last time we saw him he said we were just pretending and not to come back unless we were really, really, really sick." All of which was absolutely true. The doctor had been stern in his denouncement and had chastised the brothers soundly._

 _Sean coughed again and tears sprang to his eyes._

" _That's horrible." Miss Leone looked indignant and fished a clean tissue out of her smock pocket and gave it to Sean. "There, now dry those eyes. That awful man. Why he doesn't do half of what he should around here."_

 _Miss Leone's eyes swept the room. She watched other children preparing for bed. Most were thin and pale. It was winter and there were others with coughs. And what was Dr. Zerba doing to help any of them? Nothing it appeared._

 _Miss Leone patted Sean on the knee and rose to her tired feet. "Time for bed, boys. I'll do what I can about that blanket and maybe … maybe I can get you some apple juice. Do you like apple juice?"_

" _Yes, ma'am," Sean said, his voice soft like his throat hurt, although it didn't._

 _He gave Miss Leone something that resembled a smile. She pulled his sheet and thin blanket over him as he crawled into bed. She figured that since he was only eight, he hadn't quite mastered the smiling thing yet. It took time for children to work out a natural smile. Most children smiled too big or too little or worst of all, like those awful Jack-O-Lanterns they carved in America for Halloween. That's what Sean's smile reminded her of … a Jack-O-Lantern._

 _He'll grow out of it, Miss Leone thought as she went to the wall switch and dimmed the lights. "Good-night, children. Lights out in ten minutes."_

 _Later, when the lights were completely out, Ethan snuck into Sean's bed._

" _She'll bring the blanket tomorrow," Ethan said with smug confidence._

" _Probably two," Sean sounded equally as confident._

" _Yeah, probably two and some juice. She might even bring candy."_

 _They had a stash of candy. Miss Leone wasn't the only worker at the orphanage who snuck candy to them. The brothers used the candy to buy favors from the other children. Ethan hated kitchen detail and when it was his turn to do dishes he usually bribed Melina to do them. Melina was twelve and she'd do just about anything for candy. Even some shameful things. Once she'd lifted her blouse and let Ethan see her bra. Then she'd laughed and ran off._

 _Ethan grinned. Malice and greed twisted the grin into something almost evil._

 _The brothers whispered late into the night, making plans. They were always making plans …_

Sean opened the bathroom door and slipped into the hallway. He looked at the closed bedroom door. Vanessa waited just a few feet beyond the threshold. He imagined her in the nightgown, lying on the bed, her hair fanned across the pillow. That was how he wanted her. There on the bed waiting for him.

His heart thumped and he felt a primal stirring.

He turned the key in the lock and reached for the door handle. After tonight Vanessa would not be sad any more. She would not _be_ any more. She would be dead. He and Ethan would use her body and then put her out of her misery.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The bedroom door opened and Joe tensed. The rock-sock weapon hung from his right hand. The ankle part of the sock was wrapped tightly around his right hand. He'd taken a few practice swings while waiting. It was all in the snap of the wrist. All in the timing. Joe had to get it right the first time, on the first swing, not the second or third. He'd never get a third swing. By then it would be down to hand-to-hand combat and that would be noisy. By then the other man would be alerted.

Joe didn't like not knowing where the other man was. Was he in the house? Was he armed? Vanessa had said they had rifles and handguns. That was pretty heavy stuff for a home invasion. It told Joe that these men, these brothers as Vanessa called them, weren't messing around. They meant to kill. They weren't the type to leave witnesses behind.

Joe had to even the odds. He had to take the first man down hard and fast. Put him out of the game and then concentrate on the second man.

# # # #

Sean entered the bedroom wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. The butt of a gun stuck out of the waistband at the small of his back. A bundle of zip-ties poked out of a back pocket.

Sean saw Vanessa on the bed and moved toward her.

Joe watched from a dark corner. His view was of Sean's back. Joe immediately spotted the gun and then the zip-ties.

Joe felt a stirring of blistering rage and worked hard to bury it. He'd learned years ago that his rage would burn him alive if he let it. He'd experienced a lot of rage when his first girlfriend was killed in a car bomb. It had taken years to work through that tragedy and years more to come to terms with it.

Joe wasn't sure he'd actually come to terms with it. Not completely. That probably wasn't in the cards.

Sean approached the bed and Joe stepped out of the corner. He walked on the balls of his feet to deaden the sound.

# # # #

Sean stopped at the edge of the bed and squared his shoulders. His hands curled into fists.

"You have disobeyed," he said. "You are not in the nightgown, Miss Vanessa." His tone was disapproving and resentful. How dare she not obey his orders?

Vanessa did exactly as Joe had instructed her. She never looked in Joe's direction. Never once gave any indication that someone else was in the room, not even when Joe stepped out of the corner. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on Sean, looming over her.

The tightness around Sean's eyes told Vanessa he was angry. She understood. She had defied him and he wanted to make her pay.

"Get up," he said.

Vanessa swallowed her fear and met his cold glare. "No." The word was said with more courage than Vanessa felt.

Joe took two quick steps, brought his right arm up, and whipped the rock-loaded sock around.

Sean sensed the movement and turned his head.

 _Whoosh!_

 _Thunk!_

The rock caught him on the side of the head. His eyes rolled back and he slumped toward Vanessa.

Vanessa slapped her hands over her mouth to bury the scream.

Joe grabbed Sean by the arm and the waistband of his jeans and lowered him to the floor. Then Joe plucked the gun out of Sean's waistband and slipped it into his own waistband. He laid two fingers on Sean's neck and checked for a pulse. There was one. Nice and steady.

Joe's eyes darted to the open doorway.

Where was the other man? What was he doing? Had he heard anything?

Vanessa was still sitting on the bed, hands clamped over her mouth, looking shell-shocked.

"In the closet," Joe whispered and motioned her that way with a jerk of his head.

Vanessa slid off the bed. "Wh… why?

"Safer." Joe's eyes shifted from Sean on the floor, to the door, and back to Vanessa. "We don't know where the other guy is. Get in the closet and stay there. Don't come out until I tell you to."

Vanessa moved toward the closet. Joe tugged a zip-tie out of Sean's pocket and secured Sean's hands behind his back. Joe pulled out more zip-ties and secured Sean's ankles then rolled him on his side.

Joe crouched next to Sean and peered out the doorway. His view was limited. Sean's gun was in Joe's hand, a Glock 17, a weapon Joe knew well. It had a seventeen round capacity. Joe released the magazine and counted. Six rounds. That meant six shots.

Not bad, Joe thought as he pushed the magazine back into the gun. He could do a lot of damage with six rounds.

Joe's focus returned to the doorway. Light from the living room flowed down the hallway. Joe strained to hear even the slightest sound, but heard nothing. Joe hunched and moved to the door. He pressed his back to the wall and angled his head, tried to see into the living room. Couldn't see much, just the arm of the couch.

Was the other man out there? The house seemed awfully quiet. If the other man was in the house, Joe should hear something, some movement at least.

Joe glanced at the bathroom across the hall. The door was wide open. Joe craned his neck to see inside the dark room. No one there as far as Joe could see.

It appeared the other man wasn't in the house at all. Just too damn quiet out there. Unless the man was reading a book, but that didn't fit with Joe's interpretation of these men. Joe couldn't imagine either man reading a book. For that matter, he couldn't imagine either of them relaxing. They seemed rigid and uptight. Not ones to let their hair down. Joe didn't think either man went in for leisure activities.

Where did all of this leave Joe? It left him with two nagging questions.

Where was the otherman? And what was he doing?


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Ethan trudged down the driveway. The snow fell lightly around him. The storm had abated and the wind had died down.

Ethan wanted to retrieve their truck and move it to the cabin. Get it out of sight should anyone come along the road tonight. Although that seemed unlikely given the weather. Still, Ethan was a man who did not take chances. Prudence and caution were his bywords.

He swept the beam of his penlight over the snow covered driveway. The police cruiser's tire tracks stood out in sharp relief against the white snow.

Then Ethan saw something that froze him in his tracks. He squatted and examined the marks.

 _Footprints_.

Someone had walked up the driveway and not long ago. The prints were fresh, the snow had barely begun to fill them in.

Ethan's insides tightened and his jaw clenched. Someone was at the house. Someone who had not knocked on the door or announced their arrival.

Another police officer?

No, Ethan didn't think so. He pushed to his feet and glanced over his shoulder and up the slight incline to the cabin. Someone was up there, lurking around the outside or – and this was a big _or_ – someone was already inside the cabin.

 _Who?_

Ethan had no way of knowing. He and Sean had not asked Miss Vanessa many questions. They had assumed she was isolated and alone. The only obstacle they knew of was the boyfriend. However, Ethan had solved that obstacle, he'd shot the boyfriend when he'd shown up.

But then, an idea occurred to Ethan. An idea that shook him from his arrogant, self-absorbed world. What if, Ethan thought, what if the man he had shot wasn't the boyfriend.

Ethan glanced at the footprints and then up at the cabin.

What if the man who left these footprints was the boyfriend? Whoever this was had walked the mountain road, had come up the driveway, had gone on the porch and found …

And found the dead police officer. Which meant he knew that Miss Vanessa was in danger. This man, this boyfriend, may have peeked in the windows. He could have seen Ethan and Sean through the kitchen window. That window had no curtain.

This man, this boyfriend, may well have discovered that there were two men in the cabin with Miss Vanessa.

A sliver of fear prickled Ethan's spine. He felt a little dizzy, a little sick. His brother was in the cabin …

Ethan shook his head. He had to think this through. Sean was armed. If the boyfriend appeared, Sean would shoot him. Ethan had no doubts about that.

Well, there had been no gunshots. No screams or shouts from the cabin.

Fear gnawed at Ethan's gut. Fear for his brother. An irrational fear? Ethan didn't think so.

Ethan removed one glove and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He dimmed the penlight's beam and pulled out his handgun. He reversed course and followed the footprints. As he neared the cabin, he switched the penlight off and tucked it in a pocket of his jeans.

Pale, blue moonlight seeped through the clouds and the lightly falling snow. It was just enough light for Ethan to follow the footprints. They led him to the back of the cabin and straight to the bedroom window.

Ethan saw the mounds of disturbed snow beneath the window. The window to Miss Vanessa's bedroom.

The sick feeling returned and Ethan slumped against the cabin wall.

The man, the boyfriend, was in the house. Miss Vanessa had let him in.

Ethan thought back. He'd watched Sean enter the bedroom just before he, Ethan, walked out the front door. A shudder of dread rippled down Ethan's spine.

Sean was in danger. Or worse.

Ethan reminded himself … no gunshots. No screams, no shouts.

# # # #

Sean stirred and groaned. Joe put the barrel of the Glock to Sean's temple.

"Make a sound and you're dead," Joe whispered.

Sean's eyes squeezed shut as he winced and frowned. A momentary thought skidded across his mind, who was this man? But Sean had more pressing troubles and the thought died. The pounding in his head was like an explosion, a repeating explosion. When one burst of pain subsided another started.

Sean grimaced against the pain. He leaned his face toward the floor and held himself perfectly still as a wave of nausea swept over him. It was like the ocean, wave after wave of nausea crushed him.

He was going to die. His own vomit would kill him. He would drown in it.

"Where's your brother?" Joe asked.

Sean shook his head. He couldn't think straight. He just wanted the nausea and pain to go away. Wanted this man to go away, too.

The man had other ideas though and shoved Sean in the shoulder with a hand.

"Where's your brother?" The words were a low growl.

The man was angry and Sean didn't care. There was nothing he could do to please the man. Sean's only concern was for his brother and he would never tell this man where Ethan was.

Absolutely never.

# # # #

Sean had been knocked unconscious. Had to be. It was the only scenario that made sense to Ethan. If Sean had gotten the upper hand, he would have turned every light on in the cabin. He would be waiting on the doorstep for Ethan's return. He would be anxious to tell Ethan every detail of how the boyfriend had surprised him and how he had killed him. They would relive the story together and then celebrate it.

They would make Miss Vanessa pay. Oh, and she would pay dearly for her folly. They would be particularly cruel to her. Do things that …

Well, that thought had to wait because such was not the case here. Sean was not waiting for Ethan. No new lights shone in the windows. The cabin was as quiet as a tomb. It sat engulfed in an unnerving quiet that could mean only one thing.

The boyfriend had subdued Sean.

And now, the boyfriend was waiting for Ethan.

Ethan sucked in a long, cold breath. He had to save his brother. Ethan would not leave until he knew what had happened to Sean.

Was Sean alive or dead?

Didn't matter. Either way, Ethan would have his revenge.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Police Officer Scott followed behind Ernie and his snowplow. A curtain of snow flew through the air on the right side of the plow. Ernie and his best driver, Pete, were in the snowplow. Pete was that second set of hands and eyes that a night like this demanded.

The snow came down in fits and starts now. Slow at times and fast at others.

Police Chief Ron had told Scott this was a high priority mission. Pine Crest had two missing people. A cousin of Ron's wife – a Miss Vanessa Bender – and one of Pine Crest's own, Officer Henry DuPont. That got Scott in the gut every time he thought about it. Henry was a great guy and the fact that he was missing was all kinds of bad.

Heck, Henry had grown up here in town. He'd driven up and down this mountain thousands of times just like Scott. No way should Henry be missing. Only thing Scott could think of, was Henry must have met with something out of the ordinary. What that _something_ could be was beyond Scott's imagination.

Scott couldn't fathom Henry going off the road. Henry, like Scott, knew every twist and turn of this road. They'd both learned to drive a stick-shift on it for Christ's sakes. Scott and Henry had been best buds in high school. Yeah, they both knew this mountain. Knew it better than most anyone in town.

"No way he'd go off the road," Scott muttered under his breath. "Ain't no way he'd miss a turn and plunge over the side." Scott worked his tongue over his teeth. "Ain't no way. I'll eat my hat if that happened."

Ernie and Pete kept the snowplow moving up the mountain road, nice and easy. No sense in risking their lives. Plus, they were busy searching left and right, for anything unusual. Anything that might be a clue as to what had happened to Henry DuPont. They were just as anxious about Henry's disappearance and whereabouts as Officer Scott.

The snowplow deposited a layer of salt and sand as it went. For this, Scott was thankful. If extra help was needed later tonight, and he thought it very likely, then the road would be drivable. Help would be able to get through.

"Hallelujah, for Ernie and his snowplow," Scott muttered. Then he saw the brake lights blink on the snowplow and it stopped dead on the road. The curtain of snow stopped, too.

Scott put his cruiser in park and grumbled, "Now what?"

He undid his seatbelt, scooped his gloves off the passenger's seat, and got out of the nice, warm vehicle. Stepped out into the arctic cold. Exhaust fumes from the snowplow drifted past and filled the snowy air with a diesel smell.

Ernie and Pete were standing in front of the snowplow. They waved and pointed at the right hand side of the road.

They'd found something.

Scott's chest tightened as he pulled on his gloves. Relax, he told himself. No sense in assuming the worse. Not yet anyway. His breath streamed behind him as he made his way to Ernie and Pete. The snowplow blocked Scott's view of whatever it was Ernie and Pete had discovered.

# # # #

It was close to seven p.m. when Fenton Hardy walked into the living room and sat on the couch. He was in his pajamas and robe as was his wife, Laura. He and Laura had had an early dinner and were ready to relax in front of the cozy fire Fenton had started.

The Christmas tree Laura had lovingly decorated a week ago glowed in the corner. Candles and fresh pine boughs adorned the mantel. The living room was warm and inviting, the very picture of Christmas.

Laura, already on the couch, had a blanket over her legs. She was reading a book on her Kindle.

Fenton had a paperback on the end table and hoped to finish it tonight. That was, until his cell phone chirped.

Fenton picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. _Pine Crest Police Department._

Well, that couldn't be good.

Fenton answered the phone. "Hello, Fenton Hardy here."

His wife lifted an eyebrow in question and Fenton shrugged.

A man's voice came over the line, "Mr. Hardy? This is Ron Preston. I'm the Police Chief of Pine Crest. That's a little community about four hours north of you, sir. And I've got a situation up here that I think maybe you can help me with."

"Oh?" Ron had piqued Fenton's curiosity and not necessarily in a good way.

"You own a SUV, sir?" Ron rattled off the make, model, and license plate number and waited.

Fenton frowned. Joe was driving that vehicle. Why was a police chief calling about it?

"Yes," Fenton said. "That's my vehicle. I lent it to my son. As a matter of fact, he drove it to Pine Crest today. He should be there now. Is there a problem, Chief?"

Fenton prayed there wasn't a problem. He saw Laura close her Kindle and lay it on her lap. She sat upright on the couch. The frown on her face said she did not like the direction this conversation had taken.

"No," Ron said, "no real problem. One of my officers found the vehicle on the side of the road. It looks like the driver may have skidded and decided to park the vehicle and get out and walk. The vehicle was found on Bear Mountain Road. That's not the easiest road to navigate and especially not on a night like this. We've got an ice storm slamming us pretty hard at the moment. We've had a few accidents in town and now this abandoned SUV. I'm just trying to locate the driver and make sure he's okay. When's the last time you heard from your son, Mr. Hardy?"

And there it was, Fenton thought. The question that twisted every parent's gut.

Fenton lowered his cell phone and looked to his wife for help. "When did we last hear from Joe?"

Laura was momentarily stunned. Fenton watched the bottom drop out of her world. Then she gathered her wits and pulled herself together.

"He left a little after noon," she said, "and called around .. around four, I think. Let me check my cell phone. It'll have the time he called." Laura reached for her phone on the coffee table.

Fenton spoke into his phone, "Our son left here around noon, Chief. My wife's checking her phone –"

"Four-fifteen," Laura said. Her blue eyes were wide and questioning.

Fenton relayed the information to Ron, "Four-fifteen. Joe, our son, should be with his girlfriend by now. They're supposed to be staying at a cabin that belonged to the girlfriend's aunt. I .. I believe the cabin is on a mountain."

Fenton looked to his wife to see if he had the details correct. She nodded that he did.

"Yes," Ron said, "I'm sure that would be Alice Draper's cabin on Bear Mountain. Would your son's girlfriend happen to be Vanessa Bender?"

"Yes. Yes, she would." Fenton felt a hitch in his chest, but kept his expression neutral for his wife's sake.

"Well, then, we do have a problem," Ron said.

Ten minutes later, Fenton hung up his cell phone and turned to his wife. "That was Ron Preston, Police Chief of Pine Crest. His wife is Vanessa Bender's cousin." Fenton ran a hand over the back of his neck. This was difficult. How to explain things to Laura without getting her unduly upset or worried? Was that even possible? Should he even try?

Laura didn't say a word. She patiently waited for her husband to explain things. This wasn't the first time they'd been hit with distressing news about one of their sons and she doubted it would be the last time.

She remembered years ago when Fenton was a police officer in New York City. Those had not been easy years by any stretch of the imagination. She'd been a young wife then with two small boys. Nights often found her sitting home alone worrying about her husband.

The years Joe was in the Army and deployed to Afghanistan hadn't been easy either. But she'd made it through them. Uneasy years came with a husband and two sons who worked high risk jobs. All three of her men were detectives now. The boys owned and operated a detective agency in Illinois. Fenton owned and operated an agency here, in Bayport, New York. Uneasy years still lay ahead for Laura.

As a mother and wife, Laura had learned to live with uneasiness. She'd learned to accept the unacceptable and to roll with the punches. She'd learned to never let anything get her down, not completely anyway. It wasn't easy and she never expected it would be.

Fenton cleared his throat and said, "Vanessa Bender hasn't been heard from since arriving in Pine Crest. She was supposed to call her cousin, Daphne, when she got to the cabin. She never called. Daphne and Ron are worried about her. An ice storm's hitting the town at the moment, so power lines could be down. There's a possibility Vanessa tried to call and couldn't."

Laura let out a breath. A little tension went with it. "No cell phone service on the mountain?"

"No, no cell service." Now the hard part, Fenton thought. He lowered his head a second then brought it up. "Um, Ron sent an officer up the road over two hours ago to check on Vanessa. The officer never radioed back. Ron doesn't know if the officer made it to the cabin or not. For all Ron knows, his officer might've gone off the road. Naturally, Ron's concerned."

Laura went numb.

Now the hardest part. Fenton looked into his wife's sky blue eyes. Their son, Joe, had the same blue eyes.

"Ron's sent another officer up the mountain with a snowplow crew," Fenton said. "They found my SUV abandoned on the road. Now they're looking for three people. The missing officer, Vanessa, and Joe."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you all kindly for the reviews. I enjoy reading them and am glad people are enjoying this story! I know this story was a bit of a break in the action, but of course, a necessary break. ;)_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Ethan stood on the cabin's porch and wondered how he was going to get inside without being seen. Without being heard. He had his pistol drawn and ready, but it gave him little confidence.

Ethan had tried the backdoor first, the one that led into the kitchen. No surprise, it was locked. Ethan had figured such would be the case, but would have been remiss if he had not attempted to enter through the kitchen. Only one dim light shone in the kitchen. There were plenty of shadows and places to hide in there.

The front door opened right into the living room. Anyone standing in the doorway had a direct view of the short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. However, anyone standing in the doorway was also a perfect target for whoever waited inside. In this case, the boyfriend.

And Ethan assumed the boyfriend had a weapon. Either he had Sean's gun or one of the rifles they had left on the coffee table.

The boyfriend could be hidden in any number of places. He could be crouched in a bedroom doorway at this very moment taking aim at the front door.

This thought caused Ethan to pause. He gave some serious thought to turning and running to their truck. Maybe he should get the hell out of here. Leave Sean to his fate. Sean could be dead right now for all Ethan knew. If that were the case then Ethan was risking his life for a corpse.

 _His brother's corpse_.

 _His brother_.

The only person in the world he loved. The only person he trusted. They had supported and cared for each other in their thirty-some years on this earth. They had never formed a bond with another living soul. No one. It had always been them. The two of them against the world. The cold, heartless world.

Ethan peered down at the police officer lying on the snow covered porch. The Smokey Bear hat hid his face. The body was stiff and unnatural looking. A layer of snow and ice crystals glittered on the officer's coat and pants. Ethan breathed in the frigid air. He didn't care about this man, he only cared about his brother.

 _His brother_.

He couldn't leave his brother not even if Sean was dead. If Sean was dead then there was nothing left for Ethan. Ethan could not see himself continuing alone. He and Sean were a set. Two halves of a whole. Without one, the other was incomplete. Without each other, the remaining brother would die.

Ethan had to go in. He had to find his brother.

# # # #

Joe led with the Glock as he inched out of the bedroom. He pressed his back to the wall of the hallway and went down on one knee. Slowly, he scanned the living room. He could see most of it from his vantage point. A lamp glowed on an end table. Christmas lights, strung along the fireplace mantle, twinkled. The room appeared warm and inviting. Joe longed to be on the couch snuggled next to Vanessa enjoying cups of hot chocolate.

The thought died as Joe's eyes trailed over the couch and easy chair. He searched the shadows for hidden figures and saw none. He shifted his focus to the entryway that led to the kitchen-slash-dining room. Golden light spilled from the entryway, but no sounds came from within.

The man could be hidden in there, in the kitchen.

Joe would have to check the kitchen. He rose to a crouch and crept down the hall, each step careful and cautious. The Glock was aimed and ready.

Joe passed by the front door and froze. The handle style doorknob was moving down. Someone was opening the door. Joe was out in the open, totally exposed. The entryway to the kitchen was to his right, the living room to his left.

The front door opened a fraction of an inch and Joe knew he had to do something fast.

He remembered a story one of his instructors at MP school had told the class. The instructor had been in a suspect's off post house searching it when the suspect returned.

The instructor said he'd thought about yelling, "Freeze! Put your hands in the air." But realistically, what hardcore criminal was going to obey that order, especially one selling Army weapons and ammo out of his home? More likely the suspect would bolt and the instructor would have to chase him through the neighborhood and thereby endanger innocent civilians.

"What I wanted," the instructor told the class, "was the asshole on the ground and handcuffed with my knee planted between his shoulder blades."

The instructor said he stepped behind the front door, the very door the suspect was coming through, and tackled the suspect as he walked in. Then wrestled him to the ground and cuffed him.

Joe planned on doing the exact same thing. He tucked the Glock in the waistband of his jeans and stepped behind the door. It had opened a little farther. Joe held his breath and waited. The barrel of a handgun came into view and Joe readied himself. He watched as a pair of hands, wrapped around the grip of a handgun, slid into sight.

Ethan held the gun in a two-handed grip. His arms were fully extended. His jacket was bunched at the shoulders, pulling the sleeves up and exposing his wrists.

Joe focused on Ethan's left wrist. He would grab it and wrestle the man to the floor.

In one swift motion, Joe stepped forward, seized Ethan's left wrist, and wrenched it behind Ethan's back.

Pain shot up Ethan's arm and he flinched. He'd been momentarily startled, but quickly realized his situation and began struggling. He was bent forward, trying to relieve the pressure on his left elbow. He jerked and pulled, tried desperately to break free from Joe's iron grip.

Joe flung his right arm around Ethan's neck and squeezed. Now, Ethan was fighting for air. Joe kicked Ethan in the back of the knees and they both went down. Landed in a big heap on the floor.

Cold air blew through the open door, but neither man noticed it.

Joe was sprawled across Ethan's back, Joe's left hand clamped around Ethan's left wrist. Joe lifted Ethan's wrist and slammed it into the floor, repeatedly, trying to dislodge the gun from Ethan's hand.

"Let. Go. Of. The gun," Joe grunted with each forceful slam.

Ethan maintained a death-grip on the gun, his index finger on the trigger. He would never voluntarily release the gun.

Joe tightened his right arm around Ethan's neck and intensified the chokehold. Ethan bent his head forward in an attempt to mitigate the effects. It was a wasted effort. Joe's chokehold was secure. Ethan felt himself growing faint and fought it, fought it with every ounce of strength he had left.

Between the wrist slamming and the chokehold, Joe had worked up a sweat and his adrenaline was sky high. The adrenaline worked like a shot of expresso. It kept him going. Gave him the strength and resolve he needed at that moment.

He tightened the chokehold and grunted with the exertion. This man was going down. Joe Hardy wasn't about to lose this fight. Losing this fight meant failing Vanessa and that was never going to happen.

After what seemed a long time, way too long a time, Joe felt the man beneath him go limp.

Joe held the chokehold a second longer, then let go. The man wouldn't be unconscious for long. Joe had, literally, seconds to get the gun untangled from the man's hand.

Joe crawled forward, planted a knee in the middle of Ethan's back, and went to work on the gun. He tugged Ethan's fingers free from the gun's grip, and trigger, and shoved the gun across the wooden floor. It slid under the couch and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. One weapon out of the mix.

Ethan was coming around. Joe climbed off of him and did a quick visual check for other weapons and didn't spot any.

For the first time, Joe noticed the cold air flowing in through the open front door. He pushed the door shut then stood over Ethan and peered down at him. Sean's Glock was still tucked in Joe's waistband. He would use it only if forced to.

Ethan shook his head and looked up at Joe.

Joe put a hand on the butt of the Glock and said, "Get up and put your hands on the wall." Joe motioned to the wall where he wanted Ethan's hands placed.

Ethan got on his hands and knees. A moment of wooziness washed over him. He glanced around the room. No place to run. No place to hide and his gun was gone. Probably the boyfriend had it. Ethan sized up the boyfriend. He was a big, rugged guy with blond hair and blue eyes. And he looked angry.

"My brother," Ethan said as he slowly rose and stood in front of Joe. "Where is my brother?"

The fury Joe had so carefully held in check erupted. He cocked a fist and punched Ethan in the jaw. That was for Vanessa. For frightening her.

Ethan's head snapped to the side and he stumbled backwards. Instinctively, he threw a hand up to protect his face. The blow had stunned and surprised him and the pain was intense. It felt as if someone has taken a sledgehammer to his face. Ethan didn't want to be hit again. Not in the face.

Joe stepped forward and threw a hard right that caught Ethan behind the ear. That was for laying hands on Vanessa. Joe followed the right with a vicious left jab to the stomach that sent Ethan crashing into the wall.

Ethan leaned a shoulder, and one hand, on the wall for support. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His ears were ringing and his stomach was on fire. Stars and dots flickered like a kaleidoscope in front of his eyes. Pain pulsed in a nasty, chaotic rhythm through his body and head. His world was falling apart. For the first time in a very long time, he was afraid.

He remembered another time, another place, when he'd been afraid. When his mother died, he and Sean had been scared then. Terrified actually. Only natural. They were little boys, six and five years old. Ethan had felt small and vulnerable. He'd wondered what would become of him and his brother. How would they survive? Where would they go?

A distant relative of his mother had made the decision to put the brothers in an orphanage. Apparently, no one in the family wanted them. No one was willing to take them in. Not one relative offered them a place to sleep, a warm meal, or a gentle hug. That had been a hard blow for him and Sean. Not being wanted. Knowing that no one loved them.

However, once the brothers entered the orphanage, things had changed and for the better. Within a week the brothers had everyone fawning over them. They were cute and well-mannered. Two respectable boys. Two lost boys. Everyone felt sorry for them. The women workers in particular wanted to make the boys' lives better and easier. Only the sternest of orphanage workers did not show them some sympathy.

The brothers soon learned how to take advantage of their new situation. They soon became master manipulators.

But now, in the present, Ethan could not cope. Hand-to-hand fighting was beyond him. He knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about fighting. Not with fists. He had never hit a man before. Oh, he had hit plenty of the women. If a woman had not complied immediately with his, or Sean's instructions, they had slapped or punched the woman.

It had always amazed Ethan how quickly most women acquiesced after a slap or a punch. A few women had offered no resistance at all, thinking perhaps, that by giving in they might save themselves. In the end, their cooperation had made no difference. They were doomed the moment Ethan and Sean entered their homes. Their fates were written in blood.

And rage, Ethan had never felt rage before, not like this man. Rage oozed off of this man in hot, searing waves. He wanted to kill Ethan with his bare hands. Ethan could see it in the man's eyes and Ethan feared the man would do just that, kill him bare-handed.

The man growled, "Turn around and put your hands on the wall, shoulder width apart."

The words, the tone in which they were spoken, struck Ethan as familiar.

 _Police Officer?_

Definitely a police officer's choice of wording. The tone was firm and authoritative like a police officer's. It brokered no arguments.

Miss Vanessa had said her boyfriend was a detective. A police detective?

"Turn around," the man growled. "Now!"

The man's fist came up. Ethan couldn't fight this man. Ethan spun and placed his hands on the wall. Blood dripped off of his chin and splattered on the floor.

"My brother," Ethan moaned, his voice pleading. "Where is he? Is he alive?"

Joe grabbed Ethan's right wrist and pulled it behind Ethan's back.

"He's alive. Tied up in the bedroom."

# # # #

Joe used the zip-ties he'd taken from Sean and secured Ethan's hands behind his back. Next, Joe shoved Ethan into the dining room, sat him on a chair, and zip-tied his legs to the chair legs.

Was that enough? Joe didn't think so. He daisy-chained a bunch of zip-ties together. Thankfully he had plenty thanks to Sean, but what did that say about the brothers and their intentions?

Joe ran the daisy-chained zip-ties across Ethan's waist and around the back of the chair. He pulled the chain snug and secured it with more zip-ties.

That should hold the man for a while.

Joe rose to his feet and wiped sweat from his brow. Mission accomplished. Both men were tied up and no longer a threat.

Joe walked around and stood in front of the man hunched in the chair. The man's chin rested on his chest. Blood flowed along his jaw and onto his shirt.

Joe glared long and hard at the man. Not that the man could see it. He never lifted his head.

The man disgusted Joe. In Joe's book the man was a coward and a coward was the worst possible thing a man could be. Joe had wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp, but the man hadn't fought back. Hadn't even tried to defend himself. He'd cowered like a child.

That had taken the fight out of Joe. The cowering. Joe had felt like a schoolyard bully beating up a defenseless victim and at that point, Joe's rage had evaporated.

This man wasn't worth sore knuckles or the time and energy. He was a worthless, despicable, waste of a human. He warranted nothing.

Joe stared down at an utterly defeated man.

# # # #

Vanessa sat in the closet, arms wrapped around her knees. She'd heard the fight. Well, she'd heard scuffling and Joe's voice, hard and firm. It had sounded like he was giving orders.

Now, all was quiet in the house.

No, she heard footsteps. Someone was walking down the hall. Then someone opened the bedroom door. Footsteps approached the closet. Vanessa watched as the closet door slide open. She looked up and saw Joe's face. He reached out a hand and she took it.

He helped her to her feet and pulled her to him. His arms wrapped around her and she instantly felt safe. Joe smoothed her hair with one hand and kissed her head.

"Both men are tied up," he said. "You're safe now. We're safe."

They were safe. The words hit her like a tidal wave. He'd saved her. She had feared the men would kill him and her, but no, they were safe and sound and all thanks to him.

She lifted her head and their eyes met.

Joe's gaze traveled from her bruised and swollen cheek to her teary eyes. Relief and exhaustion shone in her pale, blue eyes. Suddenly, a fierce, protective love gripped Joe's heart. He'd never felt a love like this before. It was good to know he could love so deeply and fiercely. He knew, too, that he never wanted anyone to terrorize this woman again.

 _His woman_.

No one would ever again lay a hand on this woman. Not in malice. Not in anger.

 _His woman_.

The woman he loved with all his heart. He knew that now, unmistakably. Undeniably.

He angled his head, lowered his lips to hers, and kissed her.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Vanessa waited nervously by the foot of the bed while Joe checked the man on the floor. The man lay on his side. His breathing was shallow and a puddle of vomit was pooled by his head.

Joe checked the man's pulse. It was good, but Joe still thought the man could use medical attention. He might have a concussion. Those could be serious. Besides, Joe wanted both men out of the cabin and the sooner, the better.

He looked over at Vanessa. Tension rippled along her shoulders. She hugged herself hard as if she were freezing. An anxious frown furrowed her brow. No doubt about it, Joe needed to get the men out of the cabin. Vanessa would not rest until they were gone.

Joe went to the closet, grabbed his parka off the floor, and tugged it on. "I'm going out to the police cruiser," he said. "Maybe I can contact the police station on the cruiser's radio."

"I'm coming with you." Vanessa wasn't about to be left in the cabin with the men.

"It's freezing out …" Joe stopped himself. The panic in Vanessa's eyes said, _Don't argue_. She was still terrified. Still unnerved by the night's events.

Perfectly understandable, Joe thought.

"Uh, sure," he said. "Your cousin's married to the police chief, right? What's his name?"

"Ron."

Vanessa turned and exited the bedroom. She headed straight for the front door. Her boots and parka were there. Joe followed close behind, Sean's Glock still tucked in his waistband.

Vanessa pulled on her boots and laced them. Joe had told her the other man was in the dining room tied to a chair. Vanessa didn't glance that way. She didn't want to see the other man. He had been the more vicious of the two.

While Vanessa zipped and buttoned her parka Joe went to the window overlooking the porch. He brushed the curtains aside and peered out. What he saw made his heart jump.

Headlights!

Big headlights. Attached to a huge vehicle. Snow flew from the side of the vehicle in a graceful arc.

A snowplow!

Joe couldn't believe his eyes. He shook his head, blinked, and looked again. Sure enough. It was a snowplow and behind it came another vehicle.

"Someone's here," Joe called to Vanessa.

"What?" She rushed to the window and peered out. "A .. a snowplow?"

Joe was focused on the second vehicle. "I think that's a police cruiser behind it."

"Ron," Vanessa's voice was filled with hope and excitement. She started for the door.

Joe stopped her with a hand on her arm. A dead man lay outside the door. Joe didn't want Vanessa to see the body.

"Hang on a sec. Not so fast," he cautioned.

"I … I," Vanessa sputtered. What was up with Joe? Help was here. Right outside. Why wasn't he rushing to the door?

"Let me go first," he said, a note of dread had crept into his voice.

Vanessa studied his face for a moment. "Okay, but I'm right behind you."

Joe realized there was no way to avoid the situation and said, "There's a dead officer outside the door."

Tears pricked the corners of Vanessa's eyes, but she kept her composure. "I know. I saw them shoot him. I .. I thought it was you." Vanessa inhaled sharply, clearly upset by the memory. "I ran outside after they shot him. It .. it was horrible."

Joe reached for Vanessa and hugged her to him fiercely. Their thick, puffy parkas made the hug difficult. Joe had to really stretch his arms.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispered into her hair.

"It's okay." Vanessa exhaled against his parka. It wasn't okay. Not by any standard. She blinked away threatening tears. _Okay_ was what you said when words failed, when no words fit the situation or emotions.

Vanessa pushed back and her watery, pale blue eyes lifted to Joe. "We need to get outside. If that's Ron …"

Joe released his hold on her. "Yeah, it's going to be tough for him. One of his men …" Joe couldn't finish. His throat was suddenly tight. Flashbacks of Afghanistan crowded his mind. Losing a friend was never easy. He knew because he had lost one in Afghanistan due to an IED (improvised explosive device).

Vanessa went to the window, pushed the curtain aside, and peered out. The bright beams of the snowplow lit the porch. The harsh light caused Vanessa to avert her gaze. A glimpse of the officer's body slid into view as she did. Her heart pounded and then settled into a gut wrenching ache. Some family was going to receive devastating news tonight, ten days before Christmas. Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.

She let the curtain drop into place and turned to Joe. "An officer's getting out of the car. I don't think it's Ron."

"Stay behind me," Joe said.

He had his game face on and his emotions in lockdown. He took Vanessa by the hand and they moved to the door. He nudged her behind him before putting a hand on the door handle.

"Ready?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Ready." She laid a hand on his waist. She needed the physical contact and the reassuring comfort of him close to her.

# # # #

Officer Scott approached the cabin with extreme caution. His service revolver was drawn and ready. Oh, he'd already spotted what appeared to be a body on the porch. The sight made his stomach churn and his skin crawl. Definitely, not what Scott had wanted to find or, _see_ , tonight.

Damn, damn, damn. Damn and a whole lotta other cuss words.

Scott shouted at Ernie and Pete, "Stay in the snowplow. Neither of you gets out. Understood?"

"Understood," Ernie and Pete chorused.

"Keep the lights blazing. Looks like we got a body on the porch," Scott said.

Scott heard Pete's low curse.

"Hey, Ernie," Scott added, "you still got that police radio?"

The department had given Ernie a radio a few years ago after a similar storm had wreaked havoc on the small community of Pine Crest. Chief Ron had determined that communications between rescuers, early responders, and the police were the key to coordinating rescue efforts and keeping citizens safe.

"You bet," Ernie shouted back. "Works just fine."

"Call Ron," Scott yelled. "Tell him we got a situation up here. We need backup."

"You got it." Ernie gave a mock salute.

Scott didn't see the salute. He was focused on the door of the cabin. It was opening.

# # # #

Joe stepped onto the porch with his hands up. Vanessa was right behind him, her hands on his waist. She peeked around Joe and gaped at the officer.

"Stay right where you are," Scott called out. "Keep your hands where I can see them. Both of you."

"No problem." Joe lifted his hands higher and his gaze shifted to the men in the snowplow. One was on a radio.

Vanessa stepped forward, her hands chest high. She was nervous and trembling. She felt an overwhelming need for the officer to understand. To know who she was and what had happened to her tonight. She was the victim here. She couldn't bear the thought that the officer might think her dangerous. _Dangerous_ was reserved for the two men tied up inside the cabin.

"I'm Vanessa Bender," she shouted. She tried to keep her voice steady and loud. "My cousin, Daphne, is married to Police Chief Ron Preston. You can call him. I'm sure he'd like to know I'm okay. I was supposed to call Daphne this afternoon, but .. but I couldn't." She wanted to tell the whole story, but sensed she was beginning to ramble and figured it was best to wait. Best to let the officer ask the questions.

"You're Miss Bender?"

It might have been Vanessa's imagination, but she thought the officer relaxed a little. His gun didn't waver, but his shoulders came down a bit and there was less tension in his posture.

"Yes, sir. And this is my boyfriend, Joe Hardy." Vanessa laid a hand on the sleeve of Joe's parka.

Scott scanned the big circular driveway. He glanced at Henry's police cruiser and at Vanessa's rental car. Scott's gaze then zeroed in on Joe. "Where's your vehicle, Mr. Hardy?"

"Bout a mile down the road, officer," Joe said. "The road was slick when I came up. I had to pull over and walk the rest of the way. Actually, it's my father's vehicle."

"And what's his name?" Scott squinted at Joe.

Ernie and Pete had found the abandoned SUV twenty minutes ago. Scott had immediately radioed Ron and told him of the find. It hadn't taken Ron long to discover who the SUV was registered to and radio that information to Scott.

"Fenton Hardy," Joe said.

Scott lowered his revolver and called up to Ernie in the snowplow. "You got Ron on the radio?"

"Sure do."

"Tell him we found Joseph Hardy and the missing cousin." Under his breath, Scott muttered, _"And that's the good news_." Then Scott added, "Got an ETA on that backup for me, Ernie?"

"Thirty or forty minutes," Ernie called down.

"We need an ambulance," Joe shouted from the porch. "One man inside is hurt. Might have a concussion."

Scott looked up at Ernie. "You hear that?"

"Yep. One ambulance needed." Ernie put a hand over the radio mic, leaned his head out the window, and spoke quietly to Scott. "Any word on Henry? Ron was asking."

Sadness welled up inside of Scott in a violent rush. He shook his head slowly and then stared at the porch. The body was still there. Unmoving.

"Nothing to report yet," Scott said, his voice strained. "Tell Ron I'm still working the crime scene. I'll radio as soon as I know Henry's whereabouts."

"Roger that." Ernie's bushy eyebrows rose as he turned his head and looked at Pete.

Pete gave half a shrug and shook his head sadly.

Scott knew Ernie and Pete could see the body on the porch. Up in the snowplow's cab they had a perfect view. Scott figured that like him, they were probably hoping – against hope – that it wasn't Henry. But the Smokey the Bear hat left little doubt as to who it was. Only real question was, _was he dead?_

Scott holstered his service revolver and approached the porch. He didn't know what he was walking into. As a precaution, one hand stayed on the butt of the revolver.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

It was a Christmas miracle.

Vanessa's heart was filled with happiness. It was so full, and her happiness so intense, that she felt it would burst. The night had started so badly, so very, very badly. But now, well now, the true spirit of Christmas had arrived. It had come at last and it was a living, breathing essence that filled every nook and cranny of the cabin.

Two words had changed everything. Two little words that held more meaning than any others.

Officer Scott had placed two fingers on Henry's throat, felt a faint pulse, and yelled, "He's alive."

Unbelievable.

Henry was alive.

It was a _Christmas miracle_.

All anyone could figure was that Henry had pressed his fingers to the wound in his chest and plugged the hole. The cold had done the rest. It had frozen his hand in place and slowed his heart rate and the bleeding. He hadn't bled out.

Reinforcements and an ambulance had arrived soon after that. The ambulance took Henry and the brother from the bedroom away. The medics were optimistic about Henry, his pulse had gotten a wee bit stronger after they'd hooked him up to an IV.

The brother had appeared to have a mild concussion. One of the medics had said he should be fine in a day or two. The young medic had even cleaned and bandaged the cut on Vanessa's cheek. He'd been kind enough to leave antibacterial cream and bandages behind for her and had said to ice her cheek throughout the night. She'd promised she would.

The remaining brother had been taken into custody and whisked off the mountain. Vanessa imagined him sitting in a cold, dark jail cell. She hoped he never saw the light of day. He should be locked in a cell for the rest of his life.

Two other police officers had searched the cabin, gathered up the brothers' weapons and ammo, and taken them all away. Far, far away, Vanessa hoped.

Vanessa and Joe had then answered Officer Scott's questions. Vanessa finally got to tell her story. She'd needed that. Telling the story had helped desensitize her to it, to what had happened. Still, this night would be remembered as the longest of her life even though the terror had only lasted a few hours.

Before Officer Scott departed, Joe had asked if Scott, or Police Chief Ron, would call his parents and let them know he and Vanessa were okay. Joe had promised to call his parents when he arrived at the cabin and of course, that hadn't happened.

Scott told Joe and Vanessa to pile into his cruiser. Once they were all stuffed inside – huddled in the front seat – Scott had radioed Ron with the request. Ron, happy that everyone was alive, had gone one better. He'd called Fenton and Laura Hardy while Joe and Vanessa sat in the cruiser and listened on the radio. Joe was able to talk to his parents via the radio.

Vanessa had sat there listening to their kind and caring voices. Fenton and Laura Hardy sounded like nice people and Vanessa couldn't wait to meet them. Their apparent concern for their son – and for her – had touched her deeply. Their concern had made a dark night, not so dark.

Now, an hour and a half later, Vanessa buzzed around the kitchen. Joe had cleaned the vomit in the bedroom and was in the living room starting a fire. Vanessa was heating up leftover stew and making hot chocolate.

She hummed Christmas carols as she fussed over the food and drinks.

At long last, the night was playing out the way it was supposed to. The way she had imagined it would. At last, the cabin felt like home.

# # # #

Joe laid another log on the fire. It was going pretty good now. It should last a few hours. Joe sat on the oversized hearth and enjoyed the heat. This was his first chance to warm up since arriving at the cabin and he took full advantage of it.

The fire popped and hissed. The sounds took Joe back to Afghanistan, to a cordon and search operation in a village suspected of harboring insurgents. The heat, the dust, and the god-awful stench came back full force. That smell was everywhere. It permeated the entire country. It was a smell he would never forget.

 _Joe and his partner cautiously approached the next house. They'd been at it for hours. Searching homes … searching residents … searching their few and tattered belongings. This house, like most, was more hut than house. But it had a door, a wooden one._

 _Joe and his partner, Banyan, paused at the door. Joe stood on the left side of the doorframe with his back to the wall. Banyan was on the right. Both men sensed something off, something different about this house. How they knew that neither could say._

 _They exchanged looks and a split-second later, bullets shredded the door from inside the house. Joe and Banyan dropped to a knee and returned fire through the gaping holes in the door. Thank God their M4 carbines were locked and loaded. Standard operating procedure for these searches._

 _Joe radioed for backup. He hadn't needed to. Other teams were already hurrying to them and taking up defensive positions. The gun battle didn't last long. Not with so much American firepower. It ended with one insurgent dead inside and the other badly wounded. Papers, cell phones, weapons, and ammo were found inside the hut. The mission was deemed a success. No Americans were killed in the action and valuable intel was gained from the papers and cell phones._

Joe had taken a splinter in the neck when the door shattered. That minor wound had earned him three stitches and a Purple Heart. It was his second Heart in six months. The first one had come when an IED blew a leg off his previous partner, Jack Liedecker, and killed him. Jack had been a great partner and Joe still missed him. Still thought of the sacrifice Jack had made for the greater good.

It was over two years since that day and nightmares occasionally haunted Joe's sleep. Occasionally they jolted him awake, sweat beading his forehead.

Luck had intervened the day Jack died and it had saved Joe's life. An insurgent had jumped him, knocked him to the ground, and covered his body. When the IED exploded, the insurgent on top of Joe took the brunt of the shrapnel. Joe received a few pieces of metal in both legs. Minor wounds compared to Jack's. Jack didn't have anyone covering his body and he didn't survived.

Luck. That was what all service members called it, especially the grunts (infantry soldiers). Most grunts tried to make their own luck before they went on a mission. Loading their rucksacks the same way, carrying a special item, saying a prayer, whatever it took …

But like one grunt told Joe, "When your time's up, ain't nothing you can do about it. Luck or no luck, you're dead. Ain't no more to it than that."

No more to it than that?

Luck or godly intervention? Which had saved Joe?

He didn't know, but he'd come to realize that he couldn't wallow in the past. The world didn't stop for those stuck in the past. The world kept right on spinning and the days kept right on passing and as Joe well knew, a person's days could be cut short. One moment you were pulling guard duty and the next you were dead.

Joe felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He didn't want to waste whatever time he had left on this planet. That possessive, protective love gripped his heart again. It claimed his soul, too. He loved Vanessa. She was the woman for him and he knew it. No doubt about it. He felt it with every fiber of his being.

They both had troubled pasts and impulsive natures. Oh, they had their differences, too. He was apt to wanderlust while she preferred staying home. She loved to cook and he loved to eat. Couldn't complain about that.

And here she came with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate heaped with melted marshmallows. She set the mugs on the coffee table.

"Those are too hot to drink," she warned. "I'm bringing the stew out next."

She smiled at Joe and his heart flip-flopped. The hot chocolate smelled like Christmas and Vanessa looked like an angel. He was in heaven.

He rose from the fireplace and drew her into a long, lingering kiss. He kissed her carefully, a first date kind of kiss. The kind of kiss meant to reassure her and let her know she was safe with him. She would always be safe with him.

# # # #

Two empty bowls sat on the coffee table alongside two empty mugs.

Vanessa and Joe sat on the couch gazing into the fire. She tucked her legs under her and leaned into him. Her head found the perfect spot against his shoulder.

He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb lightly over her knuckles. He enjoyed the closeness, the warmth of her body next to his.

After a moment or two, he said, "Do you know how much I love you?"

She untucked a leg and sat a little straighter. She looked into his sky blue eyes. "I .. I'm not sure." She was floundering here. Was there more to this question? Perhaps, a deeper meaning?

They'd said _I love yous_ and truly meant them. But they hadn't had an in-depth discussion about their love for each other or _how much_ they loved each other.

"All I know, Joseph Hardy, is that I love you with all my heart. From the day I met you I felt a connection. And since that day you've always been there for me." Her expression was somber. "I feel safe when you're around. Protected and safe."

She almost laughed at the words. They sounded corny and stilted. But they were true.

She blushed a little as she added, "You're kind and caring and warm and sensitive. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful boyfriend."

She'd spoken from her heart, unabashed and unafraid. After what she'd been through tonight, fear had no place in her heart, not when it came to love.

Joe shifted on the couch and faced her so that he could drink in her beauty. He ran a hand through her hair. Pale blonde hair made golden in the firelight. Gray-blue eyes that shone with innocence and love. Pink lips paused in a half-smile. He shifted his gaze to their hands joined together. That was the way it sure be. The two of them … Joe and Vanessa … joined together. They belonged with one another. Forever and for always.

He brought his eyes up to hers. "I've fallen for you, Van. Completely. I'm totally in love with you. Tonight showed me just how much. I never want us to be a part again."

She was a bit surprised. Joe Hardy wasn't given to such raw, emotional declarations of love.

"Are you …?" She looked at him curiously. She didn't want to assume anything, although her heart hoped.

"Am I asking you to marry me?" A grin hitched up a corner of his mouth.

One delicately arched eyebrow rose and the other lowered as she tilted her head and frowned at him. "Well, are you?"

His grin grew. "Only if you plan on saying yes."

She chuckled softly. The sound was musical and magical. She was happy again and he was glad. That was the way she should be – lighthearted and merry.

"Yes." She flashed him radiant smile. "I plan on saying yes."

"Great."

He enveloped her in strong arms and kissed her tenderly on the lips. He could never kiss her too much. And he realized, he could never kiss her enough.

Sometimes you couldn't win. And sometimes, that was a good thing. A very good thing indeed.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Laura Hardy pulled back the covers and sank onto the bed. Disaster averted, she thought. Speaking with Joe tonight had allayed all her fears. He and Vanessa were safe and sound at the cabin. Christmas would be merry and bright after all. That was what she had hoped for all along.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. How many times in her life would she – could she – thank God that her children were safe? Was there a limit? If there was, surely, she was close to hers.

Fenton trotted into the bedroom, removed his robe, tossed it on a chair in the corner, and climbed into bed beside her.

"They're safe," he said. His attempt to reassure and comfort his wife.

"I know." Laura pulled the covers over her legs and lap.

Fenton laid his head on his pillow. "They'll be here in six days."

"I know." Laura smiled to herself. "Vanessa sounds sweet. I can't wait to meet her."

"Joe certainly seems taken with her."

"Yes, he does." Laura eased down onto the bed, laid on her side, and faced her husband. "I think she's the _one_."

"Maybe." Fenton was being cautious. It was his nature. The culmination of years of detective work. He turned to his wife and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Laura rolled onto her back. "She's obviously special to Joe. Do you realize she's the only woman Joe's ever brought home to meet us?"

Fenton pondered that for a moment as he stared at the ceiling. "Actually I hadn't thought of it that way. But you're right. Think it means something?"

Laura chuckled softly, rolled onto her side again, and faced her husband. "My dear, sweet husband, I think it means he wants to marry her."

Fenton's eyes grew wide as if he'd seen a ghost. "They've only known each other a few months."

The idea of marriage had occurred to him – very briefly – and then he'd forgotten about it. Women gave these things much more thought than men did.

"I think they've known each other long enough," Laura said matter-of-factly. "How long did we know each other before we started discussing marriage?"

Fenton frowned. This question required serious thought. Women didn't like wrong answers. Not in matters of the heart. Woe be to him if he got the answer wrong.

Laura propped herself on an elbow. The soft glow from the bedside lamp made her eyes twinkle. "I'll save you, dear. About six or seven months. Same as Joe and Vanessa."

"I was just getting ready to say that," Fenton protested, somewhat harshly.

Laura patted her husband's arm. "Of course you were, dear."

Laura smiled, rolled over, and turned off the bedside light. She felt Fenton's arm go around her waist and pull her close.

"I knew the answer," he whispered in her ear.

She enjoyed his touch. Even after all these years, the magic was still there.

"Sorry, I spoke too soon," she said. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Well, maybe." He kissed her softly on the neck.

They made a little more magic that night.

# # # #

Officer Scott arrived at Mercy Hospital around one in the morning. Mercy Hospital was the best trauma hospital in the county. Actually, it was the only trauma hospital in the county. It was located ninety miles south of Pine Crest in the city of Woodridge.

Henry was in good hands at Mercy.

Scott held his Smokey the Bear hat in his hands as he walked up to the counter. Shiny Christmas garland hung along the outside of the counter. A young woman behind the counter smiled. She wore a Santa cap and a nametag that read, _Lisa_.

Lisa was quick, not only on her feet, but mentally. Lisa, like everyone in the hospital, knew who Officer Henry DuPont was. A police officer shot in Pine Crest was big news. A shooting was a rare occurrence in this neck of the woods – so to speak.

"Hello, Officer Scott." Lisa had read his nametag, too.

Scott thought Lisa had a beautiful smile, especially for this time of night.

"Are you here about, Officer DuPont?" Lisa's smile never faded. That smile had given hope to hundreds of patients and families. Now it gave Scott hope.

Scott fidgeted with the brim of his hat. "Yeah, he was brought in a couple of hours ago? How's he doing?"

"Surgery went great. He's in a room and resting comfortable." Lisa's smile did not diminish one iota.

A grin tugged at the corners of Scott's mouth. "Great. God, that's great news. Can I see him?" Lisa's smile faltered for the first time and Scott quickly added, "Just for a few minutes. I promise."

Lisa leaned on the counter and gave Scott a conspiratorial wink. "For you, I think I can make an exception to policy. Come on. I'll take you to him." She touched the arm of the other woman behind the counter. "I'll be right back, Anita.

Anita peered over her eyeglasses at Scott. She might be fifty-five, but she wasn't dead. Her gaze traveled from Scott's dirty blond hair down to his boots and back up again. Nice hunk of man, she thought.

"Take your time," she said to Lisa. "Not real busy around here this time of night."

# # # #

Lisa pointed to a red button attached to a cord that was attached to Henry's bed. "If you need anything just press this button and a nurse'll come running."

"Thanks." Scott looked around for a chair, spotted one, and moved it over beside Henry's bed. Scott eased his tired body onto the chair.

Lisa's hand settled lightly on his shoulder. "I'll leave you alone now. Stay as long as you like. Officer DuPont probably won't wake while you're here. Probably be tomorrow before he wakes up."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I figured as much. I .. I just really wanted to see him tonight, you know? Make sure everything's okay. No complications or anything."

"He came through the surgery with flying colors." Lisa patted Scott's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "From what I heard, the doctors say he'll make a full recovery. The cold really saved his life tonight. Imagine that. Most times the cold kills. Tonight it saved a life. It doesn't get any better than that, does it?"

"No, no it doesn't." Scott shook his head and grinned.

"Well, let me get out of here so you can have some time with your … your partner?"

"Yeah," Scott said. "Henry's a partner _and_ a friend. We've known each other since grade school."

"Stay as long as you like."

Scott heard Lisa shut the door quietly then he looked over at Henry lying in a nice, neat, pristine hospital bed. An IV bag hung from a pole and a tube snaked its way into Henry's arm. All kinds of gadgets monitored his breathing, heart-rate, and blood pressure. Well, if anything went wrong the machines would sound the alarm.

Scott stayed for two hours. His eyes hurt when he left the room. He'd shed a few tears while talking to Henry. He hadn't said anything important. Just jabbered really. Scott had told Henry to get better soon. Yeah, everyone said that, but everyone meant it. Scott sure as hell meant it.

His last words were, "I'll be back tomorrow .. and the next day and the next if I have to. The whole department's pulling for you, Henry." He laid a hand on the door knob, turned, and over his shoulder said, "We miss you, Henry."

Scott nodded to Lisa on his way out of the hospital. She gave him a heartwarming smile and a wink. Damn, she was cute. Two reasons to come back tomorrow.

To see Henry _and_ Lisa.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning Vanessa got the coffee brewing then went to work on scrambled eggs. She added chopped ham and onions for flavor. As she worked she thought about last night. How she and Joe had lain in bed, snuggled together. He'd pulled her to him so that her back curled neatly into his chest.

Spooning some people called it. Comforting she called it.

She had needed that physical contact more than she'd realized. They'd slept melded together. She and Joe. He never left her side. He seemed to understand her needs and she was grateful for that.

They hadn't talked much once they got in bed. Words had seemed out of place, as though they might shatter the closeness they were experiencing.

No, they hadn't talked much. They'd held each other and let the love and passion flow between them like a gentle wave. Vanessa could still feel those feelings and sensations this morning. They were as sharp and vivid as they were last night.

She remembered Joe's tender kisses in her hair. His warm hands on her stomach. His soft mutterings in her ear. They'd all calmed her and forced away the ugliness of the night.

She'd absorbed his love. Let it soothe and calm her frayed nerves. She'd tried to give him as much love in return. He'd saved her life and she would be forever grateful. Forever thankful.

As she'd fallen asleep, she'd whispered, "I love you, Joe Hardy."

# # # #

Joe trudged through the calf-deep snow surrounding the cabin. He was looking for downed power lines. He didn't find any, but he did find the cut telephone line. He would call in a repair order later today or the next. He and Vanessa would have to drive down the mountain and into town to do that.

At least, he had his vehicle. Officer Scott had been kind enough to drive Joe – and Vanessa because she refused to be left alone at the cabin – to the SUV last night.

"Have to go down the mountain anyway," Officer Scott had said.

Once Joe and Vanessa were safely in the SUV, Scott had warned Joe, "Be careful going back up to the cabin. I know it ain't far and Ernie's plowed the road, but this road can still surprise folks."

Joe had not doubted that. He'd thanked Officer Scott and promised to be extra careful. Vanessa was with him. He wasn't going to take any chances.

Joe now turned his attention to the firewood on the back porch. There was a half a cord of wood stacked in three neat piles. That should see him and Vanessa through the next few days. They weren't using the wood to heat the cabin. It was more for ambiance. Well, and maybe for a little extra warmth in the evening.

He carried several arms loads into the living room and tucked them into the niches built into the stone fireplace. He replenished the pile on the hearth and plugged in the Christmas lights above the mantel. That broke the gloom of the gray morning. The sun was making a valiant effort outside, but heavy cloud cover diminished its effects.

Joe got a fire set to go in the fireplace then stood back and admired his work. The aroma of coffee and breakfast wafted into the living room. It worked like a magnet and pulled him into the kitchen-slash-dining room.

Vanessa set two plates of food on the big oak table as he entered the room. Eggs, freshly baked biscuits, and sausage gravy. All of his favorites.

Joe headed for the coffeemaker on the counter and poured himself a piping hot cup of java. He stirred in plenty of cream and sugar then carried the cup to the table and sat.

"Breakfast looks great," he said.

Vanessa sat across from him. She draped a napkin over her lap and picked up her fork. She moved her eggs around as though she wasn't hungry. In reality, her mind was elsewhere. She'd been thinking about last night and the conversation they'd had before going to bed. That conversation had left her happy and tentatively planning a future with Joe.

She laid down her fork and cleared her throat. She directed her gaze, rather intently, at Joe. "Ahem. I, um, well, I wanted to clear something up."

Joe washed down his eggs and biscuit with a sip of coffee. "What's that?"

"About last night." Vanessa fidgeted with the napkin on her lap. "I .. I wanted to be clear about what you said. Or maybe, I should say, what you _didn't_ say."

Joe frowned a little at that statement. He wondered where this was going.

Vanessa cleared her throat again. "Um, you never actually asked me to marry you .. last night. Um, you do realize that, don't you? What I mean is, you never actually said the words, 'Will you marry me?'"

Ah, so that was it. A grin crept around the corners of Joe's mouth. "I know."

He lifted his coffee mug and took another sip. A long, drawn out sip for dramatic affect.

Vanessa sat rigid, looking slightly flustered or perhaps irritated. Hard to tell.

Joe sat his cup on the table and smiled. "It's all about timing, Van. There's a proper time and a proper way to ask a woman to marry you." He stretched his hand across the table and curled his fingers around Vanessa's hand. His voice became low and rough. "I want to do it right. The proposal, I mean. I've never proposed to anyone before and I don't plan on ever proposing to anyone ever again. This is a once in a lifetime deal for me. You're the woman for me, the one and only. That means I only get one shot at this. The proposal. I have to do things right the first time."

Vanessa found herself going soft and mushy. She put a finger to the corner of her eye to catch a stray tear. Silly tear. "Well, when is the proper time and place?"

Joe withdrew his hand and picked up his fork. His food was getting cold. Couldn't have that. He pointed the fork at Vanessa. "That's for me to know and you to find out. If I told you when and where that'd take all the excitement out of it. We can't have that now, can we?" A mischievous grin danced upon his lips.

Vanessa eyed Joe warily for a moment and then smiled. "No, we certainly can't have that. Why, that wouldn't be any fun at all."

Inwardly, she glowed. A rush of warmth and happiness enveloped her. It squeezed the air out of her lungs and for a second she couldn't breathe.

They were talking marriage and they were serious. And more importantly, Joe was going to do it right.

Finally, she dragged in a breath. Life was good today. Wondrous in fact. She scooped eggs onto her fork. Suddenly, she was ravenous.

"Just for the record," she said, "I love you, Joseph Hardy."

Joe's smile melted her heart. God, she loved that man.

"And just for the record," he said, "I love you, too, Vanessa Bender."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Two days later the weather cleared. The sun came out and stayed out, as if it had missed being part of people's daily lives. Some of the snow began to melt. Not necessarily a good thing. The streets of Pine Crest turned into a slushy mess. Dirty mounds of snow lined the city curbs and icy puddles were obstacles pedestrians tried to avoid as they hurried along salted sidewalks.

Vanessa and Joe stepped over a puddle and made their way into the Pine Crest Police Station. Inside it was small and cozy. A Christmas tree stood front and center in the tiny lobby. A desk sergeant sat ready and willing to help all who entered.

Vanessa had given Officer Scott a statement (two nights ago) of her harrowing home invasion. Now, she was here to read over that statement and sign it. She told the desk sergeant all this in a few brief sentences.

"Ah, so that was you. Glad to see you're okay."

Sure, she was okay, in spite of the fading bruise and cut on her cheek. Not to mention the occasional moment of panic. Those would fade, too, Joe had assured her.

"Everyone's heard what happened at Alice Draper's cabin," the sergeant continued. He was quite jovial. "It's been on the local news non-stop."

"Oh." Vanessa pursed her lips. "I didn't know that. The cabin doesn't have a TV."

The desk sergeant gave her a look that said she must be crazy. Who didn't have a TV? "Well, probably just as well. The media keeps repeating the same things over and over. You were rescued by your boyfriend, a former Army MP." The sergeant looked at Joe. "You must be the boyfriend. You're a hero around these parts."

"Anyone would have done the same." Joe didn't consider himself a hero. He'd been in far worse situations in Afghanistan.

"You took down two armed criminals," the sergeant insisted. "That counts for something in my book."

"I agree." Vanessa looped an arm through Joe's and tilted her head to gaze up him. "He saved my life. I truly believe that. If he hadn't shown up when he did … well, I hate to think what might've happened."

"I got lucky." Joe downplayed his part. "I didn't have to face both brothers at the same time."

The sergeant let out a low whistle. "Yeah, well, those dudes are as creepy as they come. Mark my words, they'll be writing books about those two."

"Miss Bender." Officer Scott stood in the hallway. He was big and solid and took up most of the space. "I see you and Mr. Hardy made it. Come on back." He waved them down the hall and into his office. He threw a pointed frown over his shoulder at the desk sergeant. Opinions were best kept to one's self, especially in a police station.

The sergeant looked appropriately cowed. Message received, loud and clear.

Once Vanessa and Joe were comfortably settled in his office Scott pushed papers across his desk. "Here you go, Miss Bender. Your statement. I realize this was taken while you were under stress. If you would, please, read it over. Cross out anything you disagree with, add in anything you think I missed, and then give it back to me. There's no rush. Take your time. You have all the time you need." He moved to the door. "Either of you like some coffee?"

Vanessa shook her head. "Not me, thanks."

Joe lifted a hand. "I'll take some. Lots of cream and sugar."

"Be right back." Scott closed the door and left Vanessa and Joe to read in silence.

Joe was there for moral support. He rested a hand lightly on the small of Vanessa's back as she read the statement.

Everything was in there. Everything was clearly stated in black and white. No gray areas. This was her nightmare reduced to five neatly typed pages.

She took her time and read each line carefully. She read the statement four times. Joe drank his coffee while she added a few minor details. Nothing major. Nothing that probably mattered. At first, she hesitated, but Joe encouraged her.

"What's it going to hurt to add it," he said. "You'll feel better if it's in there, am I right?"

She nodded, pen poised over the paper. "You're right. How'd you know?"

"MP for seven years. I've taken a few statements in my time. Victims always want all the little details in there. It's important to them and I can see it's important to you. You lived this. This statement has to reflect what happened, what _really_ happened to you." He held her gaze for a moment. "You never know, it might make a difference to a judge when he's sentencing those two. If nothing else you'll sleep better at night knowing every little detail is in there, that you didn't leave anything out. Right?"

"Right," she said with finality and added a few more lines to the neatly typed pages.

Officer Scott reappeared as she laid the pen down.

"All finished, folks?"

"All finished," Vanessa said and relief washed over her.

This had been another step in putting the ordeal behind her. Step one had been telling the story to Officer Scott. Step two had been going to bed and somehow pretending that she could sleep. She had slept, but only because Joe had been there, his arms wrapped around her. Step three was now complete. Her statement. Accurately written. Accurately portraying what had happened.

Scott took a seat behind his desk and sipped lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug. "If you don't mind, I'd like to read this over real quick and see if I have any questions. If there's no questions, I'll have a copy printed out for you to sign, Miss Bender. After that you all'll be free to go."

Joe got to his feet. "We'll wait in the lobby while you look it over."

"Sounds good." Scott set his mug on the desk and scooped up the papers.

Joe and Vanessa walked into the lobby and up to the big, plate glass window. They stood beside the Christmas tree and watched traffic stream by on Main Street. It was late afternoon and the sun was on its way down. People were on their way home. Christmas lights twinkled around store windows. Lighted wreaths hung from lampposts. Smiling shoppers hustled by carrying packages. Everyone was merry and bright.

It was a reaffirming scene for Vanessa. The world had returned to normal. Her world was safe again. For the past few days, she'd felt out of sync with the world and with herself. Oh, she had tried to act normal, but there had been an undercurrent of skepticism like she was faking it. Like she was putting up a front for Joe's sake.

She shook herself. It was time to move on with her life. Time to leave the past in the past and look forward to the future. And she had a bright future awaiting her. She reached over and slid her hand into Joe's.

"I love you," she said when his eyes met hers.

"Love you, too."

"I can't wait for you to meet Ron and Daphne and their two little girls."

"I'm looking forward to it." Joe's smile told Vanessa he meant what he said.

"We'll pick up some wine at the grocery store when we leave here."

"Some beer," Joe corrected.

"Wine." Vanessa nudged Joe with her shoulder and grinned.

"No self-respecting police chief drinks wine," Joe said flatly and confidently.

"Okay, then we'll get …"

"Both," they said in unison.

Vanessa giggled and realized how happy she was. How wonderfully happy. Then Officer Scott reappeared.

"Your statement looks fine, Miss Bender," he said. "Patty's typing up your additions then she'll print a copy and bring it out for you to sign. After that, you're free to go. I hear you're having dinner at Chief Ron's today."

"Yes, Ron and my cousin, Daphne, haven't met Joe yet. What with the weather and .. and everything, there hasn't been time," Vanessa's voice trailed off. _Everything_ … that was putting it mildly.

Scott cleared his throat. Vanessa's unease was easy to sense and Scott knew what caused it. Best to avoid the subject of the brothers, he decided and nodded at Joe. "I'm sure you'll like Ron and Daphne. Everyone around here does. They're great people. Real involved in the community. And those daughters of theirs, they're just about the cutest things you've ever seen. But don't let them fool ya." A wide grin split Scott's face and he chuckled. "They can be a mite mischievous at times. Ron'll have his hands full when those two are older."

The very efficient Patty approached with five freshly typed pages. "Here you go, Scott. All ready for signatures."

Scott led Vanessa and Joe to the counter and the desk sergeant produced a black ballpoint pen. Vanessa signed and dated each page. There, the statement was complete.

Vanessa handed Scott the pen and asked, "Are they here?"

"Who?"

"The brothers." She'd felt a sudden need to know exactly where they were.

"No, they were transported to the county jail this morning."

"Good," Vanessa said, "I hope they never get out of jail."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Miss Bender. The FBI's involved. Seems those two have committed numerous crimes in numerous states. I expect they'll be transferred to a federal prison before long."

"What are their names?" Why this was important to Vanessa, she couldn't say. But it was.

"Pardon?"

"Their names. They never used their names around me. They just called each other brother."

"Oh." Scott's expression said he found this information curious. "Names are Ethan and Sean Wakefield. Ever heard of them?"

"No. Never." Vanessa was strangely disappointed. For some reason, she had thought knowing their names would make a difference. What difference she couldn't say. But in the end it didn't.

"They have quite a story," Scott said. "Chief Ron's been talking to the FBI agents assigned to the case. Ron's got all the info on the Wakefield brothers. He can tell you all about them if you're interested."

Vanessa took a deep breath. Was she interested? "No, I don't think I'm ready for that. Not yet."

"Understandable. Well, you two have a nice supper at Ron and Daphne's. Give 'em my best while you're there."

"Will do." Joe extended a hand and Scott shook it. "Thanks for all your help. By the way, how's the officer doing that got shot?"

Scott smiled. He appreciated Joe's inquiry about Henry. "He's doing great. Should be out of the hospital the day before Christmas. We're all planning a big homecoming for him."

"He deserves it," Joe said. "Wish we could be here for it, but we'll be at my folks. I would've liked to have met him and shaken his hand."

"I'm sure he would've liked the same. I know he'll appreciate your concern."

"Well, wish him a Merry Christmas for us and have a Merry Christmas yourself."

"Same to you, folks. I'll pass the message to Henry this evening. I'm driving up to see him after my shift." And Lisa, Scott thought with a smile. And Lisa.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Daphne poured wine into two glasses and handed one to Vanessa.

"To family," Daphne said.

"To family," Vanessa echoed and touched her glass to Daphne's.

The women sipped and smiled at each other. The wine was good and the company even better. They had the kitchen all to themselves. Daphne had dinner under control which meant the women had ample time to sample the wine Vanessa and Joe had brought.

"Not bad," Daphne said, referring to the wine. "Goes down easy. Maybe too easy. Ron may get lucky later tonight." Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I doubt he'll complain." Vanessa leaned a hip against the kitchen counter.

"If I remember correctly, wine is what got me saddled with a husband and two kids in the first place." Daphne chuckled at herself.

Vanessa shook her head dismissively at her cousin. "Well, you did good, Daph. Your girls are cute as can be and Ron's a great husband and father. You've got it all. If only the rest of us were so lucky."

Daphne took sip of wine and eyed Vanessa warmly. "Well, I can't argue with you about any of that. But you seem to be doing fine now. This Joe of yours, is he the real deal?"

"I think so." The answer was soft and quiet as though Vanessa was afraid to say more. She didn't mention the possibility of marriage. Once Joe proposed properly, as he put it, then she would shout it from the rooftops and Daphne would be the first person Vanessa told. But until the proposal was official Vanessa thought it best to remain silent. Not that she liked keeping this vital information a secret because she didn't, but telling people too soon might jinx things.

"He's not half bad," Daphne was saying. "That is, if you like the tall, rugged type, oozing with charm and manners."

"You do realize, you just described your own husband," Vanessa deadpanned and then both women burst out laughing.

Being in her cousin's kitchen and sharing girl talk was just what Vanessa needed. This was normal. This was the way the holidays were supposed to be. Family, friends, food, and laughter.

"So I did," Daphne said with a grin, "guess that means we _both_ have good taste in men."

"I'll drink to that." Vanessa lifted her glass in toast.

The women clinked their wine glasses together and, amid giggles, sipped. The wine had gone straight to Vanessa's head and she didn't care. She was having fun. The laughter and playful banter had taken her back to her childhood. Back to treasured memories of Bear Mountain and Aunt Alice's cabin. That's how she wanted to remember this place and this visit. Happy and fun filled. With Joe by her side.

A flash of red streaked by the kitchen window and both women leaned over the sink for a better view of the snow blanketed backyard.

"Gabby," Daphne said. "She'll run her little legs off out there."

Vanessa arched a pale eyebrow. A gesture of amusement. "I can't imagine it's a fair snowball fight. Two grown men against two little girls."

A smug smile crept to Daphne's lips. "Ron's never won a fight against those girls. I think he's called it a tie a couple of times, but he's never won."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Well, he's got Joe helping him today." Vanessa couldn't imagine the men losing. Clearly, they had the advantage. Didn't they?

Daphne's chin came up and an indulgent smile curled the corners of her lips. "We'll see if it makes a difference." Her expression said she did not think it would. "Now, maybe we should check the ham. I'd never hear the end of it if I served a dry ham."

# # # #

Joe had vastly underestimated the enemy. Sure, they were small and young and inexperienced in the art of warfare. Ah, that meant nothing! The girls more than made up for all that in speed and bravado. Neither girl was shy about taking risks. Actually, they seemed to thrive on risky maneuvers. And cunning. They were wily as foxes.

Joe never knew from where they'd strike next. Haley and Gabby could squeeze themselves behind the smallest snow covered bushes or mounds then pop up at the last second and fling a hard-packed snowball at their target. Hard-packed being the operative word. Those little snowballs stung like the dickens. Joe was well acquainted with seven year-old Haley and her deadly aim.

She'd make a good sniper, he thought as he cautiously crept toward a low bush, snowball in hand.

Five year-old Gabby was in a red snowsuit, Haley in a bright blue one. Big, bold colors. The girls should be easy to spot. Not so, as Joe had found out the hard way. He'd taken enough snowballs on the knees and thighs that his jeans were soaked through. The area around the top of his boots had melting snow trickling down inside his boots at this very minute.

Time to even the score Joe decided as he crept closer to the bush.

Gabby sprang up and threw a snowball. It hit him in the left knee.

 _Dang!_

Gabby shrieked with glee and took off into the trees that bordered the yard. Joe took careful aim with his snowball. He couldn't miss. She was right there … right in sight …

 _Bam!_

A snowball nailed him in the seat of his pants. He muttered an expletive and spun around.

 _No one in sight!_

His eyes darted left and right.

 _Where was the little scamp?_

Aha! There, running to catch up with her sister – Haley – giggling for all she was worth. Two dots of color now – one red, one blue – bounding away in the trees.

Joe's brow furrowed as he watched the retreating figures. They would find a good spot to lay low and plot their next strategy.

Good grief, he snapped upright. He was acting as if the girls were colonels and generals planning their next move.

Then he saw Ron waving to him. Ron had secreted himself behind a pile of old lumber and a snow filled wheelbarrow. Tall stalks of frosted, yellowed grass poked out of the snow. Joe trotted over and crouched beside Ron.

"Did you see where they went?" Joe asked, his eyes roaming the landscape.

"Yeah, over behind the shed." Ron jerked his head toward the ramshackle building.

"Great. We've got 'em now. What's the plan?"

"Plan?" Ron pulled a face. "I was hoping you had a plan. What with all that Army training and stuff .. I .. I just figured you'd have a plan." He smiled. "A good one, too."

"Me? Well, um, sure, but you're the guy who's been fighting them for years. What usually works?"

Ron chuckled softly. "Haven't found anything that does. I was counting on you and not .. um, well, I don't mean any offense or anything, but you ain't exactly been that helpful today. You haven't gotten off one clean shot and look at you. Your pants are soaked through."

Joe's upper lip lifted in a snarl. "Yeah, I noticed that. But hey, those girls of yours are good. That Haley's got a damn good arm on her. You train her or something?"

"Might've." A prideful grin lit Ron's face. "Might've taught her too well. Could be the reason I never win these fights."

"You've never won?" Joe's jaw dropped. "Not even once?"

"Nope. Not once." Ron didn't looked particularly concerned.

Joe figured it was a father's pride showing through.

Joe scooped snow off the ground and started shaping it into a large snowball. "Well, let's at least go down fighting. How 'bout we sneak up on them and hit 'em with everything we can."

Ron smiled. "Sounds good to me. How many snowballs you making there, partner?"

"Two." Joe's eyes gleamed in the fading light. "Two really big ones, lightly packed."

# # # #

Joe and Ron were in the garage, commiserating over beers. The beer Joe had brought. The men had managed to sneak up on the girls. That in and of itself was an accomplishment. But the planned blow never happened. The girls were quick as rabbits and had escaped the worse of the snowball barrage. It had been fun for Joe and Ron, nonetheless, and they'd gladly accepted their defeat.

Ron had sent the girls in to change their clothes and pester their mother and Vanessa while the men hung out in the garage.

"Thanks for bringing the beer," Ron said opening a cold bottle.

"No problem. This is a nice set-up you got here." Joe indicated the entire garage with a wave of his beer.

"My man zone. No women allowed. Well, unless invited by very special invitation." Ron winked conspiratorially.

Joe grinned and chugged some beer. "How many times has a special invitation been issued?"

"Once, that I can remember. Believe that's how we ended up with Gabby." Ron chuckled and a faraway look came into his eyes.

Joe discreetly glanced around. Part of the garage housed tools and a workbench. Ron liked to build things. Cabinets, shelving, and computer desks. All of which were currently in use inside the cabin.

Overhead lights, a stocked fridge, and a separate heating system made the garage a place a person could spend an afternoon or evening. Two small, mobile radiators provided additional heat. At the moment, Joe stood next to one letting the warm air dry his wet jeans. His boots, and Ron's, were lined up on a rug beside the steps leading into the cabin.

Nestled in one corner of the garage was a recliner and a table with a reading lamp. They were situated on a large, furry rug. All the scene needed was a man in the chair and a dog curled up on the rug.

Joe pointed to the area. "Looks like a good place to read a book or go over police reports."

"It is. That's my private spot. No one's allowed to bother me when I'm in my chair. As a matter-of-fact, I've spent the last few nights in that chair going over all the FBI reports on the Wakefield brothers."

"I wanted to ask you about them," Joe said. "Officer Scott told me you'd spent a fair amount of time with the FBI agents assigned to the case. Scott said you had more info on the brothers."

"Sure do." A strange look flickered across Ron's face. Disgust, unease, disbelief … Joe wasn't sure which one it was. Maybe all of them.

"They were adopted," Ron finally said.

"From eastern Europe?" Joe had noticed the brothers' distinctive facial features.

"Yeah, good call." Ron was impressed. "Russia to be exact. They were adopted by Edna and William Wakefield of Texas. The Wakefields were – still are – wealthy and never had any children of their own. Mrs. Wakefield heard about orphanages in Russia and started investigating. She found a young child who seemed perfect for them and started a correspondence with the orphanage director. Not long afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield were invited to come to the orphanage and meet the child."

Ron pulled out two metal chairs and motioned Joe into one.

Ron sat in the other chair and continued, "All this happened about twenty years ago. The brothers were about ten and eleven then. When the Wakefields got to the orphanage they met the five year boy they had intended to adopt. However, things didn't go as planned. The boy had mental and emotional problems, in Mrs. Wakefield's opinion. I actually talked to her on the phone. Very nice lady in spite of all the heartache her adopted sons have caused her."

Ron took a sip of beer. "She and her husband were in their forties at the time they were trying to adopt and didn't feel up to taking on a child with mental and emotional issues. Plus, the child never really warmed up to them. He'd never spend any time alone with them and that nearly broke Mrs. Wakefield's heart.

"The Wakefields were about to give up and head home without a child when they noticed the brothers. The brothers were older and spoke a little English. They appeared intelligent and seemed to _want_ to be around the Wakefields. They started acting as interpreters for the couple and Mr. Wakefield, in particular, was impressed.

"The Wakefields went back to their hotel, talked things over, and decided to adopt the brothers instead of the little boy if the orphanage would allow it."

"I get the feeling the orphanage didn't oppose the change in plan," Joe said.

Ron shook his head. "Not at all. And that's how the brothers came to America. Mrs. Wakefield said they were good students and never caused her or her husband any problems while living at home. She did mention they liked anything western. The orphanage director had mentioned this, too. He'd told the Wakefields that the brothers had watched every old American western movie the orphanage owned. They'd watched them so many times they had the dialogue memorized.

"Mrs. Wakefield politely called this the 'boys' obsession.' She didn't see any harm in it and kinda jokingly told me, 'it made gift giving easy.' She and her husband went out and got the brothers everything western they could find. Cowboy hats, boots, vests, movies, books. You name it, they bought it."

Joe was frowning. "Is that how they came to speak the way they did, from watching all those old westerns?"

"Sort of." Ron waggled a hand. "Mrs. Wakefield says they picked up English very quickly once they got to the States, but they never completely lost their accent. It was slight, but it was still there."

"I didn't notice the accent," Joe said, "but my interaction with them was limited."

"I didn't notice it either. And that's one of the things I discussed with the FBI psychologist." Ron saw the question in Joe's eyes. "Yeah, the FBI's studying these guys. Seems they're very unique. Almost like twins, the psychologist said. According to her a lot of twins invent a special way of talking to each other. Usually, it's just a few words or phrases. These brothers kinda did the same thing and kinda went to extremes with it.

"You have to understand something, they lost their mother when they were very young. Five or six years old, I think. And none of their relatives were willing to take them in. That's how they wound up in the orphanage. Emotionally, that had to hurt."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, that would hurt. Could've caused them to form a stronger bond than usual. They might've developed the mind set of, it's us against the world."

"That's my take on it." Ron agreed. "One of the FBI agents shared with me some of what Ethan told him. Seems Ethan and his brother wanted to erase all traces of their past and who they were. They weren't going to be poor, little orphan boys anymore or the adopted sons of a well-to-do husband and wife. At least, not in their minds. Instead, they transformed themselves. They became someone new. They became Ethan and Sean Wakefield from some unnamed wild west location. They dressed the part and talked the part."

Ron drained his beer. "The new way of talking did get rid of the accent. Ethan said he and Sean would practice at night for hours on how to say things. They watched old TV westerns every chance they got."

"Sounds a little crazy to me," Joe said.

"To me, too. But then, we don't have the history those two have."

"True," Joe said. "Very true."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

They were in Joe's SUV and headed into Bayport, New York. Joe's hometown. He'd arrived here sixteen years ago as a scruffy thirteen-year-old kid. The town was small then and small now. It hadn't grown much in the intervening years.

The town held a lot of memories for Joe. Some good, some not so good. One thing Joe knew was that this place had made him who he was. He'd experienced his first love here. Iola Morton. A dark-haired beauty with a pixie face. She and Joe had met in eighth grade. By the last year of high school they were a couple. That lasted two whole years. They might have stayed together longer. They might have eventually married. Or they might have broken up and gone their separate ways. No one would ever know. Iola had died suddenly and tragically in a car bomb meant for Joe.

The day Iola died, he changed forever. He was no longer the carefree, fun loving young man his friends and family had known. He didn't like to think of that day. He'd thought of it plenty after it happened. In the last year, he felt he'd finally come to terms with Iola's death. He'd made peace with it and moved on.

Life was for the living and he'd decided to live – fully and completely. Iola was his past. Vanessa was his future. From this moment on he intended to look forward, not backward.

He smiled at Vanessa in the passenger's seat, reached out, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze.

"My hometown. What do you think so far?"

Quaint houses passed by Vanessa's window. The post office and library. Shops and stores all decorated for Christmas. Small town America. People moved at a leisurely pace here. This was Vanessa's kind of place. It was a place she had longed for without even knowing it.

"The town square." Joe pointed through the windshield at a small park.

Patches of snow littered the grass. Spruce, pine, and maple trees stood majestically. Squirrels scampered along the ground, their tails flapping behind them. Vanessa saw one scurry up a tree trunk and disappear into the snowy branches.

Joe slowed the vehicle and pointed out a Douglas fir in the center of the square. "Bayport's annual Christmas tree. We have the best one around. People come from other towns just to see ours."

The huge tree, decked in holiday lights and ornaments, sparkled in the afternoon sun. A Nativity scene at the bottom brought a reverence to the square and reminded citizens of the reason for the holiday.

Vanessa took in scene then turned to Joe. "It's beautiful. I love this place already. I may never want to leave."

Joe smiled for Vanessa's benefit. He didn't mind a short visit in Bayport, but he could never stay. Not for long. Memories of Iola nipped at the edges of his mind. He thought of the places they'd gone and of the things they'd done together. The memories crowded in and he pushed them away. He reminded himself that he intended to move forward, not backward.

"Hardy house is the next stop," he announced. This time his smile was genuine.

A pang of doubt assailed Vanessa. Would Joe's parents like her? She'd only talked to them once, a few brief minutes in the police car after the home invasion. The Hardys had seemed nice that night, concerned for their son and Vanessa's safety, but that hardly counted as meeting them. Today was the real test.

"Can't wait," she said. She put on a brave front as butterflies danced in her stomach.

# # # #

Laura Hardy wanted everything to be perfect for Joe and Vanessa. Especially for Vanessa. The poor girl had been through a harrowing experience and Laura wanted to help her forget it.

To that purpose, Laura had made mulled wine, laid out an assortment of snacks, and had a chicken roasting in the oven. The house smelled heavenly. Thyme, rosemary, and other spices wafted in the air. In the living room a Christmas tree – a real one – and an evergreen wreath over the fireplace, scented the room with the smell of pine.

Christmas was near. Her younger son was almost here. Laura felt a small thrill of excitement.

The doorbell chimed and the door opened. Joe and Vanessa walked in bundled in parkas and lugging suitcases.

Laura rushed to the foyer and ushered them in out of the cold. Fenton appeared at the top of the stairs and quickly descended.

Laura gathered Vanessa into a hug and whispered in her ear, "I'm so happy to finally meet you. Merry Christmas, dear."

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hardy. Thanks for having me." Laura's innate warmth and kindness washed over Vanessa and her fears of meeting Joe's parents faded.

"Our pleasure, dear." Laura gave Vanessa one last squeeze then turned to her son and embraced him.

Fenton greeted Vanessa with a smile and a hug. "We're glad you're here. Laura's outdone herself in the kitchen. I hope you like roast chicken."

"I do and it smells delicious."

"I agree, it does smell delicious." Fenton looked at his wife. "How long until supper?"

Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head at her husband. "You're as bad as the boys when they were teens. That's all I ever heard, 'When's supper?' Dinner'll be ready soon enough. There's snacks and mulled wine in the living room. Joe, is this all your luggage?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Laura gave him a look for the _ma'am_ , but held her tongue. "How about you and your father get those up to the bedrooms while Vanessa and I pour everyone some wine."

"Will do." Joe had almost said, 'yes, drill sergeant,' but knew his mother would not take kindly to it. You could take the boy out of the military, but you could not take the military out of the boy.

# # # #

The mulled wine eased Vanessa's tension as they sat in the living room chatting and munching on cheese, crackers, and fruit. Vanessa found herself slipping into a very relaxed, comfortable mood. Laura and Fenton Hardy were friendly, down-to-earth, and easy to talk to. They asked about Vanessa's childhood and background. Vanessa shared a few silly childhood stories – and with a worried heart – shared that she had been married once. She also answered questions about her mother. Mom was living in New York City with a boyfriend. They might get married, they might not. Vanessa couldn't say for sure.

Laura and Fenton took all of this information in stride. They showed no misgivings regarding Vanessa and for that, Vanessa was thankful. She had feared the Hardys might judge her. A failed marriage and a mother who was living with a man were not the most promising prospects in a future daughter-in-law. Not that Joe had mentioned marriage in front of his parents, but the thought was never far from Vanessa's mind.

Much to Vanessa's relief, the Hardys were not the type to judge. They accepted people as they were – warts and all. A few mistakes here and there were to be expected. It was part of life.

The next three days passed in a blur of happiness.

Vanessa and Joe snuck into town one day to buy gifts and have lunch at a cozy diner. The next day they strolled along the beach searching for seashells as an icy wind buffeted them. A snowstorm blew in on the third day and they built snow-people in the front yard. They adorned them with old Christmas scarves, some hats and mittens and deemed the effort their contribution to Christmas decorations for house.

Vanessa spent the late afternoons with Laura, helping with dinner while exchanging recipes and sipping mulled wine. Mulled wine was the second recipe Vanessa had asked for. The first had been for Joe's favorite meal.

Vanessa enjoyed Laura's company. The older woman was quick to share advice particularly about living with detectives. She told of long nights waiting in bed, wondering when loved ones would return home. Wondering if they would return healthy and whole or injured. She talked of cases that took her husband and sons to distant cities and how she had coped with their absences and sparse phone calls.

Vanessa absorbed every word. These were tales she needed to hear, told by a woman who had lived them. Laura Hardy held nothing back and Vanessa was grateful for the older woman's candor. It gave Vanessa a true sense of what awaited her as Joe Hardy's wife.

# # # #

Joe pulled up in front of the small grocery store and killed the engine. His mother needed milk. Joe had volunteered to run to the store to get some. It gave him a chance for privacy. Ron Preston had texted Joe earlier in the day and had more information on the Wakefield brothers.

Joe punched in Ron's phone number.

"Chief Ron Preston."

"Joe Hardy here. I got your text."

"Hey, how you doing? Everything going okay with the visit?"

"Everything's going great. The folks really like Vanessa."

"Great. Glad to hear it."

"So, what have you found out about the boys?" Joe refused to call them men.

Ron blew out a breath. Joe sensed the man running a hand through his hair. "Vanessa's lucky you got there when you did. You most likely saved her life."

Joe didn't say anything and Ron continued, "The FBI's confirmed that the Wakefields murdered four women in four different states."

"Damn," Joe hissed. "Not that I'm surprised. Not with all the weapons and ammo they had."

"All four women were shot execution style. The younger brother, Sean, has confessed to two of the murders."

"Why? Why'd he confess?"

"The FBI agent I've been in contact with says they've been working on the brothers separately. Haven't let them see each other. Seems solitary confinement doesn't agree with the younger brother. He's willing to talk in order to gain some privileges. They're breaking him down little by little. It's the older brother they haven't had any luck with. From what the agent told me, the older brother hasn't said a word about their crimes. Just sits there stone faced and tight lipped. The only thing he ever says is, 'Can I see my brother?'"

"I doubt they'll crack him. A hard case like him doesn't usually budge." Joe spoke from experience.

"You're probably right. Guess it doesn't matter now though since the younger one's talking. The agent said they're seeking the death penalty for the older brother and life in prison for the younger one – only cause he's cooperating."

"I can't complain about those results."

"Neither can I. Just thought you'd like to know how things were shaping up."

"Thanks, I appreciate the call."

"No problem. By the way, I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Daphne said I had to ask." Joe heard the hesitation in Ron's voice. "She wants to know when you and Vanessa are getting married?"

"What? Did Vanessa say something?" Joe was surprised and caught off guard.

"No, I don't think so. This is just Daphne and her wishful thinking. She thinks you guys make a great couple. It's all she's talked about since you left."

Joe chuckled into the cell phone. "Sorry about that. If anything develops between Vanessa and me we'll let you know."

"I'm sure Vanessa will call Daphne the minute there's anything to report." Ron laughed.

"I'm sure she will. Keep in touch." Joe ended the call with a huge smile on his face. Oh, I'm sure she will, he thought as he got out of the vehicle.

# # # #

It was early morning when Joe and Vanessa slipped out of the house. His parents were still asleep upstairs. Thirty minutes earlier, Joe had awakened Vanessa and asked her to come with him. There was something he wanted her to see. Something he wanted to share with her.

Vanessa had rubbed the sleep from her eyes and quickly dressed. Joe wanted to share his history with her. She knew this just as she had shared her history with him … the cabin on the mountain.

Frosty air chilled their lungs as they walked along the salted sidewalk and down the slope that led to the beach. Vanessa could hear the ocean and smell the damp, salty air. The sky above was clear, the stars brilliant against the gray sheen.

They drew closer to the beach and Vanessa saw white mist floating over the water. The sun poked its head above the horizon.

Vanessa and Joe stood on the beach, hand in hand, waves lapping near their boots. They watched as colors seeped across the sky. Stunning in their beauty, they tinted the mist and water. Lavender, pale pink, rose, orange … and finally, a blazing yellow.

The beauty was astounding and Vanessa felt a sudden oneness with the earth. It was as if the sun had winked at her and said, _only you and I know of this morning wonder._

Joe reveled in the sight, too. The wonder and amazement in Vanessa's eyes spoke volumes. That was what he had hoped to see. That was why they were here.

He remembered watching an ocean sunrise years ago, as a teen. It had quite literally taken his breath away. Today was no different. But today, by his side to share this special event was Vanessa.

They watched, without speaking, until the sun broke free of the horizon and hovered above the mist. Then, and only then, Joe turned to Vanessa and took both her hands in his. He gazed directly into her pale blue eyes and saw the morning sun reflected in them.

Vanessa stood calm and serene, still basking in the glory of the sunrise. A faint warmth brushed her cheeks.

Her eyes met his and he said, "I brought you here to share this." His head tipped toward the sunrise. "It's the most beautiful sight I know of. I .. I mean you're the most beautiful sight I know of. But an ocean sunrise is .. it .. it has special memories for me."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was messing up already. Getting his words twisted and jumbled. He probably sounded like an idiot.

She saved him. "I loved it, Joe. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I love being here with you and your family. Your parents have been wonderful. They've welcomed me with open arms and open hearts."

She paused to gather her thoughts. "I feel at home here. Bayport and your parents' home is a nice place to come to .. to forget the world .. when the world becomes too much." When the world becomes too ugly, she thought, but didn't say it. Now was not the time or place.

She looked into his eyes and saw love shining there. He felt the same. Bayport was his safe haven, too.

Joe let go of her hands, reached into a jacket pocket, and withdrew a velvet box. Vanessa gasped.

 _Was he …?_

Joe got down on one knee. "I've tried to come up with the perfect words for this moment. I've laid awake at night trying to figure out the best, most perfect thing to say." He sighed, much aggrieved. "As you can see, I haven't come up with anything special and wonderful."

She saw the regret on his face. "Joe …"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Let me get this out before I mess it up any worse." He grinned and she stifled a laugh.

He was doing it right. The way she'd hoped.

Aww, screw it, he thought. "Vanessa Bender, will you marry me?"

She tugged him to his feet and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I think you know the answer to that question, Joseph Hardy?"

"I need an official answer if you want to see what's in the box." He held up the box and smiled.

"Oh." Of course, she wanted to see inside the box. Her eyes twinkled with desire and mirth. "Yes, Joseph Hardy, I'll marry you."

Thank God, he thought and opened the box. He saw her confused and curious expression.

"It's my great-grandmother's ring," he explained. "Mom's held onto it all these years. I know it's not the traditional engagement ring …"

"It's lovely." Vanessa took the box from Joe and examined the ring. A small diamond sparkled in the center. Eight tiny stones, possibly diamonds, surrounded it.

"It's from the late 1800s," Joe said. "Mom says it looks like a cocktail ring more than an engagement ring. But that was the style then. I've always liked the ring. It's part of my family, but if you don't –"

"I love it," she quickly assured him. "It's unique and special." She smiled at him. "Just like us. And the fact that it belonged to your great-grandmother leaves me speechless. I'm honored that you want me to have it .. to wear it." A worried frown creased her brow. "Is your mother okay with this? With me having the ring?"

"Absolutely. When I asked her about giving it to you she almost broke down in tears. I was a little worried. I thought I'd upset her or something, but she said, no, she'd always hoped that one day Frank or I would want the ring for one of our wives. So, here we are. And I can say, without a doubt, that mom would be happy to see you wearing that ring."

"But Frank's the oldest, what if he wants it?"

"I called him last night and he said it's fine. He wished me good luck on the proposal and everything and well, you can see how that went." Joe smirked at himself. Wait until Frank heard how he'd flubbed the proposal.

"You were great," Vanessa insisted. "You picked a magical setting and you were wonderfully romantic. Thank you." She stepped closer to him and her voice softened to a low whisper, "I'll never forget this morning, Joe. I consider it the start of our lives together."

"That's exactly how I feel." He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.

When the kiss ended, she drew back and said, "Now, please put the ring on my finger. I'm dying to see how it looks."

His stomach tightened. He hadn't thought to have it sized. What if the ring was too big? Or too small?

He took it out of the box and slipped the box in his pocket. Vanessa held out her left hand. He pushed the ring onto her finger, worrying and fretting.

His eyes widened. "Wow," he said. "It fits."

Vanessa tilted her hand so that the stones glinted in the sunlight. "It fits perfectly. Almost as if it was made for me."

"I think it was." Joe was awestruck. He took it as a sign, a good omen. The ring was meant for him and Vanessa. He could never have found a better ring. This one had been in his family for more than a hundred years. Most of those years it had lain idle in a jewelry box, hidden from the world. Now, it proudly adorned the hand of the woman he loved. God willing, it would grace her hand for many years to come.

With luck and grace, he and Vanessa would be granted many happy years together.

 _What more could a man ask for in this world?_

They walked back to the house, arms linked. Vanessa felt certain her heart would burst with joy. Joe had proposed and he'd given her a cherished heirloom as the engagement ring. She couldn't have asked for anything more sincere. His gift proved his love, not that it needed proving. But the knowledge brought her contentment and left no doubts in her mind, or heart, as to how he felt. He loved her deeply, just as she loved him.

And in that moment, Vanessa knew she had arrived. She was _truly_ home for Christmas.

* * *

 _A/N: A final 'thank you' to those who've taken the time to leave a review or a few kind words. It's always nice to receive those. Take care everyone and have a Happy New Year! - Jilsen_


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